


Step Right Up

by StormySeaWitch



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Dark Thoughts, F/M, Gratuitous routine description, In which Soren learns a lot about himself from watching the same circus show over and over, M/M, Soren Paralysis, Sparkles and rhinestones and spandex oh my, Suicidal Thoughts, circus AU, fluffy on occasion, insensitivity towards people with disabilities, now with podfic, soren in a wheelchair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-03-06 07:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 48,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18846814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormySeaWitch/pseuds/StormySeaWitch
Summary: 'Ladies and Gentlemen, boys and girls, and all those in between. Step right up to Cirque de Xadia, see death defying acts, beauty not found anywhere else in the world, aerialists and strongmen and fire eaters. I can guarantee that this show will change your life! Step right up, step right up!'Soren snorted.It was a bit insensitive, really. Step right up. He would if he could, but instead he waited impatiently for his father or sister to wheel him into the big top. He hoped they had a level spot for him to be parked, where he wouldn’t be in the way, or roll backwards, or get stared at by little kids. Maybe his ticket would be cheaper, considering he’d brought his own chair along.‘Claudia,’ he complained. ‘Hurry up, people are staring, and the sparkly man says this show will change my life or something.’How little he knew.





	1. ACT I

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm going to sail this damn ship even if I have to do it myself!  
> Come yell with me about TDP or Sorgren on tumblr @aaravosed 
> 
> Special thanks to Su for her beta expertise/never-ending love  
> Podfic read by Sailcat x

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soren goes to the circus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's get this party started

EDIT: This fic now has an ONGOING PODFIC as read by the lovely Sailcat.  
If you have not read Sail's work, I highly recommend you yeet yourself over there and get on it.  
Otherwise, you can [listen to chapter one here!](https://storage.googleapis.com/steprightup/Step_Right_Up_Chapter_1.mp3)  
Please note, if you're reading along, some parts have been slightly edited for clarity/ease of reading and Sail and I worked together to make it work!

 

 

✪  ✪  ✪

~~_Ladies and gents, this is the moment you've waited for..._ ~~

✪  ✪  ✪

 

‘I’ve got it!’

Claudia’s incessant good mood grated on Soren’s last nerve, and he’d only been around her for an hour or two.

‘There’s a fancy circus in town!’ she declared, slamming the flyer down on their kitchen table with a triumphant grin.

‘No,’ said Soren immediately, rolling his eyes. ‘It’s bad enough seeing everyone else walk around me, Claudia. Never mind people doing flips and whatever.’

His sister pulled out a chair and sat beside him. The blonde watched her take his hand, but his brain didn’t register the feeling, or acknowledge the movement. His brain couldn’t register anything below his neck. Not for nearly 3 months. 

‘Soren, you can’t just stay in here and mope. You need to do something _fun_ ,’ she pleaded, no doubt squeezing his hand if her white knuckles were any indication.  

‘That does sound fun,’ he grumbled sarcastically, unable to even yank his hand out of hers in protest. ‘Nothing like having someone dress me in my normal people clothes, and wheel me into the van and then back out where all the little kids can watch, and then they tell me there’s nowhere to park the chair in the big top without blocking some kind of walkway and then having to leave, embarrassed.’

Claudia’s eyebrows softened in pity, and Soren wanted nothing more than to just… punch her. He didn’t _need_ her pity. He needed to be left alone.

‘It won’t be that bad.’

‘Easy for you to say,’ he grumbled, turning his head away from her, the closest he could get to storming out. He heard Claudia huff – an action she’d done ever since she was little. It was her way of expressing just how annoyed she was at him.

‘I’m going to talk to dad. And if I have to, I’ll just wheel you there myself,’ she said, and Soren let his head roll back against the headrest of his chair.

‘Nooo,’ he groaned. ‘I don’t want to go, Clauds.’

His little sister disappeared with a flick of her hair, leaving him alone in the kitchen with his worst enemy; his own damn thoughts.

Everyone who knew Soren understood that he was _going places_. He’d been accepted to the university of his dreams, was well on his way to becoming a professional baseballer, and everyone _loved_ him.

At least they had, until he couldn’t swing a bat anymore, or drink or party or hang out.

Now it was a small handful of people who came to visit him, and their visits were few and far between.

Claudia flounced back into the room on her toes, obviously having received permission to take him to the goddamn circus.

‘Dad said it’s a good idea,’ she grinned, waving the flyers.

Soren snorted. Translation? Dad said he didn’t really care, and the he was busy working.

And so, the blonde was bathed, changed, bundled up in a warm coat that he didn’t feel the effects of, wheeled into an expensive van and driven halfway across the city.

The big top was blue and silver, the three towers topped with little flags that fluttered lazily in the breeze. A truck with a huge banner was parked off to the side, with the words _Cirque du Xadia_ splashed across the front. Surrounding the words were images of various performers; strongmen, a trapeze artist, someone playing with fire.

‘This looks cool,’ Claudia said with a smile, lowering Soren’s chair to the ground.

‘Looks great,’ he deadpanned, and his sister rolled her eyes. Initially his pessimistic attitude had shaken her, but now she just rolled with it, dishing out as bad as she got.

‘We need to get a little joy back into your life,’ she said, fixing his hair. He shook his head in protest, and Claudia just tapped him on the cheek.

‘I don’t _need_ joy in my life,’ Soren muttered. ‘I need to go home and not have people staring at me and feeling sorry for me.’

‘Or you need to see that cute aerial artist flying through the air,’ she said with a smirk, pointing to the truck again.

Soren ignored her, focused only on the entrance, marked by a fancy decorated ticket booth. The chair struggled on the soft grass, worn in by the audience of the show earlier that morning.

‘Afternoon,’ came a silky voice from inside the booth. ‘Two seats?’

Soren could just see the curved lips that belonged to the voice, wearing a glittery lip gloss.

‘Uh, technically one seat, my brother is in a wheelchair. Is there a spot for him?’ she asked, and Soren’s gut turned at the normal way she said it. _My brother is in a wheelchair_.

‘Of course, we can remove one of the seats and have a spot set up for the two of you. It’s a good thing you came early.’

‘We’re getting used to it,’ Claudia said with a half shrug. ‘But thank you, it’s appreciated.’

She slid her money under the glass barrier, and a gloved hand pulled it out of sight. A moment later, he slid two silver tickets back under and Claudia took them with a smile.

‘Come, I can show you where to sit, and we can organise to have that chair taken away.’

The man that stepped out of the booth was unlike anyone Soren had ever seen before. He was tall, impossibly tall, with long white hair and yellow eyes. There were almost glowing markings under his eyes, and his glittery lips were set in a permanent smirk, like he knew something that no one else did.

He wore a long robe, dusted with sparkling stars and trimmed with gold fabric, and a hood that was impossibly high off his head, like he had something underneath it that he was trying to hide.

‘You may call me Aaravos, I’m the Ringmaster here at Cirque du Xadia.’

‘I’m Claudia and this is my brother, Soren,’ his sister said cheerfully, pushing Soren in step with the Ringmaster. The blonde was aware that he was staring, and Aaravos seemed to realise it as well.

‘Lovely to meet you,’ he purred.

Soren definitely did not want to be at the stupid circus, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued. Claudia wheeled him into the entrance to the big top, which was alive with people preparing for the upcoming show.

‘I apologise that some of the magic may be lost, we try to keep everything looking smooth,’ Aaravos explained. ‘However, a lot of work goes into a show like this.’

‘How many people are in the troupe?’ Soren asked before he could stop himself.

‘Not as many as you’d think,’ Aaravos said with a cryptic smile. ‘Everyone here can do every job, from putting up the tent to setting up the stage and moving props. And gods forbid someone gets hurt or ill, there’s usually someone who can cover their act, just not as well.’

Soren nodded, satisfied with the answer. The Ringmaster led them through the rows of chairs, right to the front, where the view would be perfect.

‘Corvus,’ he called and, out of nowhere, one of the performers was at his side. ‘This is Claudia and Soren, they’ll be watching this afternoon. Soren here doesn’t have anywhere for his chair. Can you or Gren remove this one when you have a moment, please?’

Corvus was a handsome man, with dark braided hair pulled back and thoughtful hazel eyes. He gave them a nod and a smile. ‘I can do it now, so you don’t have to wait around,’ he offered.

‘Thank you,’ Aaravos said. ‘I’ll leave you to it, there are preparations to be done. I hope you enjoy the show.’

‘Thanks!’ Claudia said with a smile, and the Ringmaster bowed low before leaving in a flurry of starry coattails.

Corvus had a toolbelt around his waist that clinked and made noise as he knelt by the metal chairs.

‘Do you think just one will be enough room?’ he asked Soren, and the blonde tipped his head from one side to the other, the closest he could get to a shrug.

‘I might be over the edge a little bit, but it’s the first row so I shouldn’t cut anyone off,’ he replied. Corvus nodded and got to work, unhooking the plastic seat so that there would be space. Claudia would be able to sit beside him and hopefully he wouldn’t block the view of whoever wound up behind him.

Life really didn’t accommodate for people in wheelchairs, he’d found. And his chair wasn’t a usual one either; it was big and clunky. It had to support his upper body as well as his lower body. But it was very comfortable.

Apparently.

Claudia had taken it for a significant test run.

‘I’m going to get some snacks, you want anything in particular?’ Claudia asked, fishing around in her bag for her wallet.

‘Surprise me,’ he replied, and she left him alone with the handsome, muscly guy fixing the chairs. ‘So…’

‘So.’

‘What’s your act in the show?’ Soren asked, trying to make conversation. It was one thing to ignore his sister or his father, they were family. Corvus was not, and he didn’t want to be rude.

The performer sat up, giving Soren a knowing smile. ‘That would be telling.’

‘Really? It’s all that secret?’ the blonde asked.

Corvus laughed. ‘I don’t want to ruin the surprise.’

‘But I’m already in here, watching you all get ready,’ Soren pointed out.

‘You can watch us get ready all you like, until you’ve seen the show, you won’t be able to determine anything,’ Corvus told him, sitting on Claudia’s seat. ‘You don’t need to _know_ everything before you go into it, you know.’

Soren wrinkled his nose, because the other man was _right,_ but he didn’t really care to hear it.

‘It’s Soren, right? Let yourself enjoy the surprise, Soren. If you hate it that much, hang around after the show and you can tell me to my face, yeah?’

Soren tipped his head to one side, in obvious thought. ‘I bet you’re an acrobat, huh?’

Corvus was small but obviously strong, and Soren could just picture him flying through the air.

‘Everyone here is an acrobat. You’ll need to be more specific.’

‘Trapeze,’ Soren declared.

‘I’ll take that bet,’ Corvus laughed, getting to his feet. ‘Do you mind if I move you to make sure the chair fits?’

Soren nodded his consent, and Corvus pushed him into place. It fit pretty snugly, and he had a good view of the arena, unimpeded by structure or other members of the audience.

‘Thank you,’ he said, and Corvus gave him a nod.

‘No problems,’ he replied with a smile. ‘I’ll be back after the show to claim my winnings.’

Soren laughed, a foreign sound even to him. Corvus stepped over the round edge of the arena and waved as he went back to whatever it was he was doing, this time with a chair tucked under his arm.

It took him a moment to realise that Claudia was beside him, giving him a smug smile.

‘What are you looking at?’

‘You’re _enjoying_ yourself,’ she accused. ‘Get enough flirting done while I was gone?’

She stepped around him and took her seat, jamming a box of popcorn between his numb leg and the side of his chair so it wouldn’t slide off.

‘I wasn’t flirting,’ Soren sighed. ‘I was making conversation, since you ditched me.’

Claudia gave an overdramatic nod. It was incredible that someone could be _so_ sarcastic without even saying a word.

He decided to ignore her, and she eventually picked up her phone to amuse herself. Soren took to watching the troupe get ready for the show.

The arena had been covered in sand, and there were a number of messy footprints and also wheel tracks running through it. Corvus was talking to another man, this one with white hair and blue paint on his cheeks, kinda like Aaravos but less glittery.

They were checking the ropes tied to various structural posts around the tent, and Soren was pretty sure they were connected to the trapeze and the random hoop that was hanging from the ceiling.

On the other side, a broad-shouldered redhead was filling buckets with water and stashing them around the tent; he remembered seeing the fire juggler on the canvas outside and realised what they were for.

It was interesting to watch them, scurrying around like ants. Most of them had their faces set in deep concentration, while their bodies moved based on muscle memory. It wasn’t until someone said something, or they bumped into each other, that the scowls were replaced with teasing words and friendly smiles.

The person who drew his eye the most was a woman; she had dark skin and flaming eyes and a voice that commanded authority. It seemed like everything happened because she made sure it did. She wore a robe similar in cut to the one Aaravos wore, but accented in red and gold.

Slowly they started to disappear from the arena, and Soren felt his pessimism give way to curiosity and, yes, a little excitement. Claudia offered him the last of the popcorn.

‘We’re going to need more,’ she mumbled. ‘But there’s heaps of people out there now.’

‘It’ll be fresh?’ Soren offered.

Claudia groaned and got to her feet. ‘You’re lucky I love you.’

‘Sure sure, maybe get me something sweet as well?’ he pressed.

As she disappeared back out the entrance to the tent, the lights went down. The only ones left illuminated the stands so that no one tripped. There was a rustling sound behind him, and then Aaravos was beside him.

‘I hope you enjoy the show,’ he said in that same velvety tone of voice.

‘I’m sure I will,’ Soren assured him.

The Ringmaster gave him a smile, not a smirk, but a smile, and then stepped over the barrier and crossed the arena with long, purposeful strides. Then he vanished.

Soren flinched when the music started up, soft and mysterious, a twinkling of bells and the shhhh of a rainmaker filling the tent. People began filling the stands, parents with children, and teenagers hanging out with friends. The music was quickly drowned out by chatter and laughter.

The anticipation in the tent was palpable, and Soren was relieved when Claudia joined him again.

‘Thank the gods,’ he muttered.

‘Sorry, it got really busy,’ she replied, resting a bag of fairy floss on his lap as well as jamming the newer, bigger popcorn box back where the old one had been.

Soren would have loved nothing more than to wriggle down in his chair and curl his feet up underneath him, but he was stuck in the one position as a glorified table for his sister’s snacks. But even his bitter thoughts melted to the back of his mind as a voice that was undeniably Aaravos’ silenced the crowd.

‘ _Ladies… and gentlemen… and all those in between_ …’

Soren felt himself suck in a breath.

Even though he had seen Aaravos in his costume, apparently that was only half of it. Because now, with the lights trained on him, and the atmosphere of being under the big top, it was like having the wind knocked out of him all over again. The glitter on his robe sparkled like the stars, and the silk of his voice was amplified through the PA system. His hood was down, making his hair seem to _glow_ under the lights, and a pair of twisted horns curved upwards towards the top of the tent.

‘ _Welcome to Cirque Du Xadia,’_ he said, arms spread out wide. ‘ _Tonight, we plan to take you on a journey through a magical land, one where beauty and strength and skill are paramount._ ’

A round of gentle applause met his words. He breathed deep, almost like he wanted to inhale their apprehension.

‘ _Our first act for tonight comes from the fiery plains of Xadia, a true marvel to see…_ ’

Aaravos stepped to the side and held out a hand. ‘ _Please welcome Janai!_ ’

Soren recognised the woman in red from earlier. She didn’t have the flowing cloak from earlier, but next to the Ringmaster she carried the same energy and confidence. Aaravos kissed the back of her hand and handed her a staff that he’d pulled out of nowhere.

Janai accepted it with a smile, and in a fast, practiced movement, lit the ends of the staff on fire. Soren’s eyes were trained on the flickering flames and didn’t notice that the Ringmaster had melted away until she took a few more steps forward in time with her music.

And for a moment or two, Soren forgot about all his problems.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

 

He watched Janai do her fire dance, and the other acts followed. The white-haired man balancing on wooden blocks. A little kid getting her dog to jump through hoops. A magician. There was even a clown with a talking bird.

As the lights came on for the intermission, Soren stretched his neck by turning his head this way and that. Beside him, Claudia stood and stretched her arms high above her head.

‘This is amazing,’ she grinned, eyes squeezed tight with the intensity of her stretch.

‘I haven’t seen Corvus yet,’ Soren pointed out. ‘I have a bet to win.’

‘A bet?’

Soren explained the whole thing while people moved around them, using the bathroom, replenishing their snack supply. He talked happily until the music returned and the lights went down, because then Aaravos has his whole attention.

‘ _Welcome back,_ ’ he said with a grin, giving the crowd a wink and it was clear that the man thrived on adoration from the crowds. ‘ _Are we having a good time?_ ’

Soren couldn’t applaud with the others, so he sat quiet, but Claudia clapped enough for them both. Her enthusiasm drew a few looks from other members of the audience and a sense of self-consciousness rose inside him. Noticing his pointed look, Claudia rolled her eyes.

‘ _Well, prepare yourselves. We’re travelling deep into the heart of Xadia now, where we’ve found the most death-defying acts in the world.’_

Soren lifted his chin curiously as two figures joined the Ringmaster on the sand. One was Corvus, his dark skin painted with gritty white and looking positively exotic. The other man was larger and painted in blue, his hair slicked back with paint and his expression serene.

‘ _Please put your hands together for the Xadian Strongmen…_ ’

The applause built anticipation in the crowd, the lights changing colours dramatically as Aaravos stepped back into the shadows. The two painted men took the spotlight. Soren didn’t even have time to register that he’d lost a bet, because he couldn’t take his eyes off them.

Corvus extended a hand to his partner, and the blue painted man took it gently. They stepped together, toes extended gracefully, the lights catching the lines of well worked limbs. The two men were made of sharp angles and yet they were soft and graceful.

Soren swallowed, eyes glued to the performers in front of him. 

The blue man turned and guided Corvus around him, his toes leaving deliberate footprints in the sand. The music swelled, and the lights moved across their bodies, casting shadows across their faces and the sand. The larger man planted his feet and slowly lifted his arms into the air, with Corvus mimicking him a few moments later.

He reached up and over his partner’s shoulders and took both his hands. The blue man steeled himself, body shaking with the tension as Corvus balanced himself on his partner’s hands. He lifted himself impossibly slowly, without even so much as a jump to make it easier.

It was like Soren had forgotten how to _breathe_. There was something about the way the two moved; it was strong and sure and calculated and yet there was something else that thickened his throat as he watched.

There was a surreal, unnatural _beauty_ in their dance. Soren had never thought of the circus as a hub for beauty, but here was, proved very wrong.

Corvus lifted himself into the air, his legs straight, and the delicate curve of his spine juxtaposed against the tension in his shoulders. The music swept around them, and Corvus’ arms straightened out, his body extending skyward, toes pointed, his wrists shaking as he held the blue painted man’s hands.

Slowly, Corvus’ legs unfurled from the foetal position they were in, and he rose high in the air, both men tight in their bodies but effortless in expression.

They paused in their perfect position, making the incredible feat of strength look easy.

Soren couldn’t applaud but he was sure the beating of his heart was louder than anyone else’s clapping.

As the applause settled down, the blue painted man started to slowly turn to the side. His feet slid across the sand, and even though his arms shook with the effort of holding Corvus above his head, the two stayed firm in their position.

Slowly, the larger man lowered his arms. Soren could see his wrists and forearms tremble with the exertion as he kept perfect control. Corvus’ expression was steely as he was lowered even further down, his nose almost brushing the nose of his partner as he passed.

His nose followed the line down the blue painted man’s neck, then chest, until his arms couldn’t curl anymore. Corvus folded his legs into a perfect right angle, his thighs brushing his partner’s hair slightly.

Soren caught Claudia leaning forward in her seat, the anticipation he felt mirrored in her actions.

The blue painted man rotated his arms so that he could support his partner in a different way; able to apply resistance as Corvus rolled onto his back, arms over his own shoulders like a slow-motion somersault. With shaking arms, the base lowered himself into a seating position. The back of Corvus’ head rested on his thighs.

Corvus’ shoulders were his only point of contact with his partner aside from his hands, and he slowly lifted his legs high and stretched them out again, supported only by his fingers wrapped around The blue painted man’s wrist. The other hand he had stretched out behind him and the music crashed down around them as they paused in their next position.

They lay flat, supported only by the blue painted man’s legs on the ground, a delicate balancing act that screamed of strength and beauty and _trust_. How did you even begin to trust someone this much?

Watching them made Soren’s heart ache. He managed to tug his gaze from the show for a second or two; looking around at the crowd. Children stared in awe, food or drink forgotten halfway to their mouths. Parents and the other adults watched with a sense of wonder. A few seats across from him, Soren noticed an older gentleman whisper something to his companion which made her smother a sweet giggle with her hand.

People used to look at him this way, when he competed. And they never would again.

As the audience applauded again, Soren blinked a few times. Claudia offered him popcorn and he nodded quickly. It dissolved in his mouth as the partner act continued in front of him, the trilling of violins sweeping through the big top. He could be alone with his thoughts later, but for now he let himself be distracted.

Faster than they had lowered themselves down, the two acrobats curled up to meet in the middle again. Corvus tucked his ankles under his partner’s arms, held in place against his heaving ribcage. Soren sucked in a breath as the smaller man lifted himself higher, sitting on the blue man’s chest as he looked up, bathed in bright blue light.

There was a pain in Soren’s heart as the two moved – not an actual physical pain of course, that would be a miracle and a half. But a longing to be able to move like they did; smooth like running water; able to weave in and out and between each other with ease.

For a second it was like he could feel the clunky chair beneath him.

With an effortless lift, the larger man held Corvus up, his arms outstretched and his stance shifting into something a little more stable. The white painted man curled his legs inward, over The blue painted man’s head and straight up like a candle.

Soren could see his friend making an effort to control his breathing, keeping the illusion that the stunts were easy. He turned to say something to his sister, only to notice that she was gripping his forearm, probably pretty tight judging by the white of her knuckles.

‘Squeeze any tighter and I’ll lose feeling in my hand,’ he whispered, and she relaxed her grip immediately.

‘That’s not even funny,’ she replied.

Soren poked his tongue out at her and she mimicked him. It was a _little_ funny.

The blue painted man was facing them now, Corvus was facing the back of the stage, held aloft by the blue man’s ridiculous arms. With deliberate movements, the blue painted man tucked his elbows in and gently let one of Corvus’ hands go. They had to give each other time to gain their balance, Soren realised. For one to just pull his hands away could leave his partner unsteady and put them both in danger.

Someone in the audience cried out as Corvus leaned sideways, his free arm stretched out to one side and his legs opening to create a counterbalance. The lights threw shadows over the stage and the blue painted man standing on the ground, and another hushed round of applause washed over them.

Before it could peter out, Soren couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping as Corvus’ body twisted and contorted, still supported only on one hand. His limbs were splayed like a star, and the blue painted man tucked his hand closer to his body and lowered himself to one knee.

Corvus slid down until his toes touched the sand, not breaking the eye contact with his partner. The sight of him back on the ground, one arm in the air with the blue man on his knees in front of him… it was like a proposal, or worship, intimate and private.

Soren almost wanted to avert his gaze, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away.

Corvus gave a little tug and pulled the blue painted man to his feet, the two of them breathing heavily. The white painted acrobat gave his partner a tiny smile as they moved in sync to prepare for the next part of the routine.

‘This is amazing,’ Claudia whispered to him, and Soren nodded in agreement, his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

‘Thanks for making me come,’ he managed, that self-conscious feeling rising again. He rarely conceded that his know-it-all sister was right since she would never let him forget it. This time she just beamed at him.

It was Corvus’ turn to be the support now, holding his partner’s hand sweetly, then applying more strength as the blue painted man leaned back, creating a beautiful arch with his whole body. He let his heel slide through the sand until he had been lowered right to the ground, still grasping Corvus’ hand.

He lifted his legs until they were straight up in the air, a perfect right angle Soren noted with a smidge of satisfaction. He watched as Corvus rested his hand in the arch of the blue painted man’s feet, and with a stylised push, guided the blue man into a shoulder stand.

The base parted his legs and brought his knees to his chest, Corvus’ hands still holding onto his feet. The blue painted man’s thighs tensed, the muscles going taut under the skin-hugging acro tights he was wearing. With the crash of a cymbal, Corvus lifted himself onto his partner’s feet at the same time the blue painted man hoisted him into the air.

He was balanced only on his shoulders, the sand shifting as he tried to keep himself steady. Corvus threaded his legs through the blue painted man’s and stretched them outright, his flexed toes pointing up over the heads of the audience. Then he threaded himself back through his partner’s legs and lifted up into a handstand.

Being in the front row, Soren could see the blue painted man making small movements with his mouth, probably letting Corvus know that everything was okay and stable. How many times had they practiced this move together? How many times had they fallen? Did they paint themselves just because it looked good, or were they covering up bruises and burns from hitting the sand too hard?

As the lights shifted and the music swelled to the crescendo, the blue painted man kept his legs straight and Corvus twisted himself right way up again. With a little swing, the smaller man leapt from the larger man’s feet, over his head and landed lightly in the sand. He posed dramatically in the centre of the ring, with his partner leaning against the back of his calf.

The music stopped dead and the spotlight lit them up, and the whole big top exploded in applause and cheers.

Claudia jumped to her feet, tipping popcorn off her lap. Soren felt his heart rise into his throat; he couldn’t clap, but he whistled and cheered.

Corvus’ eyes met his, and he gave a breathless smile and a wink.

Aaravos reappeared, and the two vanished backstage. ‘ _Wonderful, aren’t they?’_ he asked, to more applause. ‘ _There’s no show quite like Cirque du Xadia!’_

Soren gratefully accepted the offer of a water bottle with a straw from his sister as the Ringmaster directed their attention to the top of the tent where the flying trapeze artists were greeting the rest of the audience.

If you’d have asked him later, Soren would honestly say he didn’t remember a single part of their act.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

The big top was lit up once again, and people had been filing out for about ten minutes after the end of the show. Claudia was chattering beside him excitedly, as if he hadn’t just watched the exact same show she had.

‘And the way that little girl just _flew_ through the air! Amazing! Can you imagine being fifteen and being able to do that kind of thing?’

‘Mm,’ Soren nodded. ‘They were all awesome.’

Claudia continued to chatter at him while she updated her social media, and he just kept his eyes peeled for a familiar bundle of braids.

Eventually Corvus ducked out from behind the curtain and jogged over to them. He was free from most of the white paint on his body, but his hair was still streaked with the gritty paste. 

‘You stayed,’ he said with a grin.

‘I lost a bet,’ Soren replied, tipping his head to one side in his best replacement for a shrug. ‘You’re not definitely not a trapeze artist.’

Corvus crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his hip. ‘I’ll think of some favour you have to owe me.’

Soren chuckled and rolled his eyes. ‘Like I could do any favours for anyone,’ he retorted. ‘How long have you been doing this?’

‘Six years or so? I’ve been partnered with Gren for three, but he started in the Risley and I seduced him over to partner acrobalance.’

‘Gren’s your partner? The blue guy?’ Soren asked casually, eyebrow raised.

Corvus raised an eyebrow. ‘Yep. We’re good friends, even though he’s a dumbass.’

‘Soren, dad wants to know when we’ll be home,’ Claudia interrupted, waving her phone to get his attention.

‘We can go now if you want. I’m tired,’ Soren confessed. ‘Can I just say though… thank you. You too Claudia. I didn’t want to come, and you definitely proved me wrong. This was incredible.’

It was high praise, sure. But Soren wasn’t convinced that Corvus really knew what he and Gren had given him.

For the first time in months, Soren had actually _felt_ something.

He mused on this thought as Claudia wheeled him out of the tent and through the little entrance set up. Aaravos was standing by the exit, waiting to lock it up for the night.

‘Sorry!’ Claudia said with a grin as she sped up, but Soren was a well-built, very muscly young man and he knew that pushing him around exhausted his sister. ‘The show was amazing!’

‘You enjoyed it?’ Aaravos asked with a smug smile aimed at Soren more than Claudia.

‘I really did,’ he confessed.

With a flick of his wrist, the Ringmaster produced a little scrap of paper from nowhere. He offered it to Claudia from between two fingers.

‘Please, come see us again. The show changes nearly every night to keep viewers on their toes, and this will give you half price tickets,’ he explained in his deep silky voice.

‘Thank you!’ Claudia beamed. ‘We’ll even try and convince our dad to come along!’

‘Tell him that I insist he accompanies you,’ Aaravos said with a half nod.

Soren could sense the Ringmaster’s gaze on his back as Claudia loaded him into the van and strapped him safely down.

The ride home was strangely quiet, and Soren played Corvus’ strongman act over and over again in his mind. He barely spoke at dinner and was distant as he was washed and given his medications and prepared for bed.

As he drifted off to sleep, Soren’s mind was a constant loop of twisting bodies, gentle smiles, lights and a dramatic melody.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

‘Who’s your new friend?’

Corvus tipped his head back to see Gren approaching, a beer in each hand. The dark skinned man accepted his gratefully and twisted the top.

‘What new friend?’

‘The blonde you were chatting to after the show,’ Gren said, sitting in the chair opposite.

They were in Corvus’ trailer, relaxing after the last show of the night. They always hung out in this trailer, since the redhead’s was usually a mess and unfit for human habitation.

‘Soren? He’s just a guy I met before the show,’ Corvus said with a shrug. ‘He’s nice. You’d like him.’

‘How’d he get in early?’ Gren asked with a frown. ‘Ol’ Sparkles isn’t usually keen on letting people in before we’re finished setting up.’

‘He’s in a wheelchair, I had to fix the seats for him.’

‘Oh.’

‘You didn’t notice the giant black chair he was sitting in?’

‘Nuh.’

Corvus laughed heartily. ‘Too focused on checking him out?’

Gren snorted. ‘The only thing I’m checking out when we’re performing is your butt, given that it takes up nearly all of my field of vision.’

‘You love it,’ Corvus teased, offering his beer for a ‘cheers’.

Gren clinked the neck of his bottle to Corvus’ and sat back with a grin. Outside, the big top was still lit up to encourage interest, and other troupe members wandered around discussing their first shows in this particular city.

‘Here we go again,’ Gren muttered, leaning his head against the back of the seat, and Corvus nodded in agreement.

‘Here we go again.’


	2. ACT II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soren convinces his father to see the circus, and Callum and Ezran tag along for the trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your positive feedback on chapter one!  
> I apologise for my inconsistent chapter lengths, but I let the chapter take me where it needs to go. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy Act II of Step Right Up!
> 
> EDIT: Don't forget the podfic for chapter two is now available thanks to the lovely Sailcat!

EDIT: [Chapter Two](https://storage.googleapis.com/steprightup/Step_Right_Up_Chapter_2.mp3) of the Step Right Up Podfic is now up and running thanks to the lovely Sailcat!

 

✪  ✪  ✪

_~~Come Alive!~~ _

✪  ✪  ✪

 

Soren almost felt hungover when he woke up the next morning. Even though his sensory input and motor function was limited, moving around and doing a whole lot fatigued him quickly. His physiotherapist told him that getting tired was a good thing – after all, it meant that your muscles were working their hardest.

And apparently the excitement from the circus was enough to _exhaust_ him.

He’d dreamt of coloured lights and silver stars and blue eyes and now, staring at his dull beige ceiling, everything just felt less exciting.

Back to the boring, the mundane and the pointlessness of his reality.

His bedroom had changed a little, but it was still his room. He had a desk that he couldn’t use, but it had his textbooks and notebooks from uni piled up neatly. They’d taken his desk chair somewhere where it wouldn’t be in the way, since it wasn’t being used anymore either. There were photos on the walls, along with posters and a calendar that was still showing a few months ago. No one bothered to turn it over.

The shelf above his bed held all his sport trophies from over the years; mostly baseball, but a few for track or skiing as well. Even though he couldn’t see it, he also knew that right in the front, blu-tacked down because it was a shitty plastic one, was a trophy he’d won at a campus skipping competition, for ‘Most Spectacular Fail’.

He cherished it – he even still had the scars on his knees.

The things that were new to his room were more obvious, at least to him. His bed was fancy, it could be lowered and lifted with a pedal on the floor. His dad had forked out thousands to make it easier on Soren, give him at least a little dignity as someone lifted him in and out of his bed.

The other change was that his curtains were nearly always open, and he couldn’t get up to close them. He preferred the duller artificial light in the ceiling instead of the sunlight, but Claudia insisted that it was better for him and would ‘promote healing and healthy thoughts’.

Soren often thought his sister wanted him to suffer.

The last thing was that Soren could see his floor. With his chair, and his carers coming in and out of the room, all his clothes were packed away neatly in draws or hanging in his wardrobe. Back when he was fully functional, Soren’s main wardrobe was his floor. Now everything was too clean, too neat. It reminded him of the sterility of the hospital and he _hated_ it.

Before the accident, Soren’s life was planned out perfectly. He was going to graduate with a degree in sport science, go play pro baseball for a few years then work in the industry for the rest of his life.  

The fact that his dad was a professor at the university definitely helped in terms of tuition and acceptance, even if it had increased the pressure on his shoulders. It also meant that the whole faculty could check on him, even if he hadn’t done any classes with them. People were just nosy.

And yet, last night he’d been able to go out and do something fun with his sister. Sure, they’d had to go early, and take the stupid van, and they’d had to remove a whole seat just for him, but after the lights went down no one had stared at his clunky chair or his sister holding food in her fingers for him.

It had been Corvus and Gren and Aaravos that commanded attention.

And what made it even better was after the show; the lights had come up again and people had filed past him in droves. No one, not even the little kids, had spared him a second glance, or asked a blunt question. They just wanted to know _how_ the people in the ring had accomplished their incredible feats.

It was like he was invisible, and for once in his life he truly didn’t mind.

‘Sor sor?’

His response was a groan at the nickname. He didn’t hate it, but he couldn’t let Claudia know that.

‘You awake?’ she called through the door.

‘No,’ he replied.

She opened the door and smiled her giant smile. Her hair was up in a fluffy ponytail, and she was wearing one of the university branded jumpers that was obviously his, considering it was three times too big for her. In one hand she had a plate with some toast and in the other was a tall glass of juice with a straw.

‘Good morning!’ she chirped. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Yep,’ he replied with a yawn.

Claudia helped him with breakfast while she chatted about her current assignment, and she waited with him until his carer came to get him ready for the day.

Once he was cleaned and checked over and dressed and moved into his chair, Soren was allowed to join his family in the living room. Claudia was humming over her coffee while going over her uni notes, and their dad, Viren, marked essays at his desk in the corner.

And Soren just sat.

It took him maybe five minutes to pick up the sound of the clock ticking from the kitchen, and maybe another five on top of that for the sound to drive him to distraction.

One of his many specialists had suggested using poetry or some other creative outlet to _cope_ with his situation. She’d then taught him how to do a haiku poem. Three lines, with a certain number of syllables in each line. He chewed his lip and closed his eyes, since he couldn’t count on his fingers.

_Tick, tock, tick-ing clock_  
I wish I was in my class-es  
Then I wouldn’t be sad

That didn’t sound right.

‘How was the circus last night Soren?’ Viren asked, the stern sound of his voice snapping him from his poetry problem.

‘It was really good!’ Claudia jumped in, and Viren turned his head in her direction only slightly.

‘It was,’ Soren agreed. ‘I could see just fine, and they were helpful and friendly.’

Viren scoffed a little under his breath.

‘The Ringmaster gave us a thing for half price tickets,’ Soren continued. ‘We should go again, you could come with us dad.’

Before Viren could protest, Claudia was on her feet. ‘Yes! Soren had a really good time and we could totally bring Callum and Ezran along too! After all it doesn’t say how many tickets we get half price, right?’

Soren flashed his dad a hopeful smile.

‘I have more important things to do than watch people flipping about and wearing sparkly clothes,’ Viren huffed, draining the last of his coffee.

‘It wasn’t just flipping!’ Soren argued, feeling a strange desire to defend the circus from his father. ‘There were trapeze artists and fire eaters and magic, it was awesome!’

‘I’m calling Callum right now to tell him that we’re taking him and Ez to Cirque du Xadia!’ Claudia declared, her phone in the air almost like a threat. ‘Should I ask if Harrow wants to come too?’

‘No,’ Viren snapped, standing up. Soren never understood why his dad dressed like a professor even on a Sunday morning, in his pressed slacks and his neat v-neck jumper. It was like the man was morally opposed to comfort. ‘Did you say Cirque du _Xadia_?’

Claudia ignored him, chirping a greeting to Callum who had apparently picked up the phone pretty quickly.

Viren noticed the half price coupon on the coffee table and picked it up with two fingers, as if it would bite. As his eyes skimmed the fancy lettering, his eyebrows knitted together in a frown.

‘Did you meet the Ringleader?’ Viren asked, letting go and letting the paper flutter back to the table.

Soren nodded. ‘He was really nice. Told us to come back any time,’ he said with a smile.

Viren snorted. ‘He wants your money, Soren. Of _course_ he invited you back.’

The blonde scowled before he caught himself and he dropped the expression. It made sense, but he’d been happy with the idea of Aaravos liking him enough to invite him back personally.

In a flurry of hair and high-pitched farewells, Claudia reappeared in the room from the hallway, sticking her phone in her pocket.

‘Callum said that he and Ez would _love_ to come along, but Harrow can’t make it so you’ll have to supervise dad,’ she said with a smile, eyes wide.

Knowing full well that his dad wouldn’t ever refuse his sister anything, Soren let the excitement build in him again. They were going back! Today!

‘Fine. But you can go and collect them,’ Viren said, a slight wrinkle in his nose.

He always pulled that face when Harrow came up in conversation. Ever since his mum had left them, Harrow had sometimes filled that spot… and sometimes not. His dad had history with the other man from well before he was born, but apparently Viren wasn’t exactly the best partner, since pretty much everyone left him.

When Claudia had turned out to be like him - science brained, studious, content to just exist without a large social network – Soren had taken second place in the ‘favourite kid’ race. Which was fine, whatever.

He was just the only son, eldest child… all that stuff.

Whatever.

‘We’ll have to leave early so we can make sure Soren has a spot,’ Claudia reminded them, and Viren rolled his eyes.

‘Then I better keep marking for the precious little time I have left.’

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

Callum was a weird skinny kid, but he was nice enough, and he was smart. Even though Soren had tried his best to teach him how to play baseball all through their childhood, Callum just seemed like the kind to sit and draw, or read, or ask stupid questions.

When Soren was in the hospital, Callum had come to visit him a lot, jumping on a bus and hanging out until someone else could arrive. He’d read books out loud or talk about his classes and the blonde genuinely thought of him like a little brother.

Ezran on the other hand was only ten. He was smart, sure, and he was nice, but he was still a little kid. A blunt ten year old.

‘Where does it stop?’ he asked, hanging over the back of the seats in front of Soren, eyes bright with curiosity.

‘The feeling?’ Soren confirmed. ‘Pretty much everything below my neck.’

‘Does it hurt?’

‘Sometimes.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why? Did you do something?’ Soren asked, and Ezran shook his head.

The two stared at each other for a moment while Claudia fixed the wheelchair in the back of the van so it didn’t roll.

‘Do you wanna see something cool?’ Ezran asked finally, in a quiet whisper.

‘Sure.’

If he’d had full use of his legs, he probably would have climbed out of his chair in surprise, because the fluffy haired kid produced a goddamn _lizard_ from somewhere.

‘His name is Bait. Don’t tell anyone.’

Then he turned around and buckled himself in without a word.

Harrow had weird kids.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

As his wheelchair rolled over the dirt of the local reserve where the circus had pitched their tent, Soren could feel bubbles of excitement rising up his throat. He didn’t even mind that his chair rocked about on the makeshift road, or that there were people already in the line.

‘Wow,’ Ezran mumbled, staring up at the tent, little silver flags waving in the wind. ‘How do they even put that up?’

‘Practice,’ Callum replied, fishing some money out of his pocket for Viren to pay for their tickets.

The older man looked very uncomfortable in the crowd of excited people. He kept rubbing his chin like he did when his beard was getting too long, but Soren knew that he had trimmed it only a day or two ago.

‘You okay?’ Soren asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘I _hate_ the circus,’ Viren muttered, tugging at the cuffs of his sleeves. ‘Should have let Harrow bring you.’

‘He couldn’t,’ Soren said bluntly. ‘He was working.’

‘So was I,’ his dad snapped, but he immediately looked guilty. ‘Sorry, sorry. It’s not your fault.’

It wasn’t Aaravos in the ticket box, but it was one of the trapeze artists; a man with long white hair and blue markings on his face.

‘How many?’ he asked in a bored voice.

‘Uh, three adults, two children. We have this-‘ Viren slid the coupon under the glass. ‘- and my son is in a wheelchair, he said you were able to accommodate him last time?’

‘Sure, here’s your tickets. I’ll get you to step to the side please.’ The acrobat muttered some quick words into the walkie talkie that sat on the desk, then peered back at them through the glass. ‘Thanks, I’ve got one of the performers coming to get you, she’ll escort you through the crowd and make sure you’ve got your seat.’

Claudia pushed Soren over to the side of the ticket box so that others could still move through the line, and Ezran did a little wiggle of excitement.

‘No sugar for you,’ Viren said with a tiny hint of a smile. ‘You won’t be able to sit still throughout the whole show.’

‘Noo,’ Ez whined. ‘I want a jelly tart.’

‘You can’t ever have a single jelly tart,’ Callum snorted.

‘So I’ll just eat Claudia’s, she doesn’t even like them!’ Ezran declared.

Just as Claudia opened her mouth to retort, they were interrupted by a young girl about Callum’s age. She was wearing a skin tight black suit that sparkled with green glitter and tiny gemstones, and her white hair was pulled back into a messy braid.

‘Hi! I’m Rayla,’ she greeted with a wave. ‘I’m going to take you in now so we can get you all set up.’

‘Thank you, Rayla,’ Viren replied stiffly, taking over for Claudia as the official ‘guy-that-pushes-Soren-around.’

People parted for them after a bit of coaxing, and soon they could see the dark, enticing entrance to the big top.

‘You were sitting here yesterday, is that right?’ Rayla asked in her thick accent, pointing to where someone was unscrewing the same chair they had yesterday.

‘Are you an acrobat?’ Callum interrupted, darting awkwardly in front of the chair to speak with her.

Rayla smiled and nodded, a mischievous glint in her violet eyes. ‘Can’t tell you any secrets though, you’ll have to wait and see.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Callum grumbled, and Soren snorted.

Flirting 101 – don’t whine at the person you’re trying to flirt with.  

‘Poor sad human,’ Rayla mock whined in reply, grinning at him. ‘Hey Gren! We need that seat _removed_.’

A thud, and a groan.

‘But I just put it back on!’ the man mumbled, sitting up. He had red hair and too many freckles to even count. His blue eyes landed on Soren in his chair and his expression faltered a little. ‘I mean, yeah. I’ll take it off. Right now. Sorry, won’t be two ticks.’

‘Don’t stress, I have a seat in the meantime,’ Soren quipped, making Claudia snort.

The redhead stared at him for a moment before he realised that Soren was joking, then he gave him a wonky smile. ‘Right, yeah. My bad.’

Soren watched as he ducked back under the seat and started loosening the bolts that held the seat to the long metal poles.

‘I’ll leave you in Gren’s not-so-capable hands,’ Rayla sing-songed before she leapt over the barrier and pelted through the sand towards the curtains, laughter echoing around her.

‘I just… ugh,’ Gren mumbled. He sat up again, the chair tucked under one arm. ‘Sorry, she’s a brat and she’s just put footprints in the sand, knowing I already brushed it.’

Soren stared at him a moment, trying to work out where he knew the name. Then it clicked. ‘You’re Corvus’ partner!’ he declared.

Gren gave him a bright grin. ‘Yeah! You were here last night, right?’

‘Yeah, you guys were amazing. The best in the show.’

Gren jammed a thumb back towards the curtains. ‘Can you tell that little brat that? She’s sixteen and thinks she owns the place.’

‘I’m sure she’s just as good though,’ Callum pointed out.

‘Anyone can fall and look pretty,’ Gren countered, lifting his chin cheekily.

Soren swore he heard Callum mutter something about how _he_ wouldn’t look pretty doing things like that, and the blonde rolled his eyes.

‘Cool, that’s all done for you,’ Gren said, getting to his feet.

It was weird to think that this was the twisting, muscled man painted blue that he’d seen yesterday. Now, in a pair of old torn jeans and a worn grey shirt he just looked like a normal guy.

A totally buff, could flex out of his shirt, stupid grin, freckle-having normal guy.

‘Great, thanks,’ Soren said with a nod, and Gren nodded back, waiting to make sure Soren could fit.

‘You need to move so we can get the chair into the space,’ Viren deadpanned, and Gren’s face paled.

‘Ah, right. I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy the show!’ he said quickly, jumping over the barrier and making even more tracks in the sand.

Soren couldn’t help his amusement as Viren and Claudia worked together to ease him into his spot, and then they chose their seats. Claudia at the other end, then Callum, Ezran, and then his dad beside him.

The curtains fluttered as Aaravos poked his head out, and that dazzling grin lit up his face when he saw Soren.

Viren shifted uncomfortably beside him as the Ringmaster approached them, taking strong deliberate steps as his starry robes billowed around him.

‘You’ve come back,’ he said in his deep voice, delighted. ‘And you’ve brought company.’

Viren stood, so he could look the performer in the eyes.

‘Aaravos,’ he greeted shortly.

Soren frowned; had they shared the ringmaster’s name with their dad at any point?

‘Viren,’ Aaravos greeted quietly, an unusual expression crossing his handsome face. ‘I thought you said you’d never go to the circus again?’

‘My son wanted me to come,’ Viren replied stiffly, lifting his chin a little.

‘Ah, Soren is your son? I had no idea,’ Aaravos purred, never breaking eye contact with Viren. ‘I like the beard. It suits you.’

Viren snorted. ‘You haven’t changed.’

‘Why would you change what was already perfect?’

Soren caught Claudia’s eye behind their father’s back and was glad to see that he wasn’t the only confused one.

‘So, you finally did it, huh?’ Viren said, his shoulders relaxing a little. ‘You’re the ringleader of your own show.’

Aaravos leaned in a little closer, eyes glittering with mischief. ‘ _Master_ ,’ he said quietly.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I’m the Ring _master_ ,’ he clarified, a playful smile on his glossy lips. ‘Not the Ringleader.’

Viren frowned as he struggled to find words to reply. ‘It’s… the same thing.’

Aaravas tsked and stepped away from his target, straightening his coat. ‘You didn’t change much either.’

They stared at each other for a few tense moments before Aaravos turned to Soren, his expression lighter and his smile more… genuine. ‘Thank you, Soren for coming back. I’m glad that you enjoyed yourself last time. I’ll make sure this seat is permanently removed so that you can have the space whenever you’d like to come and watch!’

‘Thank you,’ Soren said, eyeing the ringmaster curiously.

‘I’ll be sure to let the troupe know that you’re in the audience again, I’m sure they’ll be delighted.’

And then he was gone, his starry coat fluttering around him and another set of footprints in the sand.

Viren sat back down, his back straight and his chin lifted almost defiantly.

‘Okay but… what the fuck was that?’ Soren asked.

‘Language,’ Viren replied.

‘Yeah Soren, language,’ Ezran repeated from further down the row.

The blonde rested his head against the back of his chair and sighed. No one told him anything; if he could walk he’d just ask Aaravos about it. They were clearly friends at one point, maybe more. He couldn’t really tell given that the ringmaster was just that kind of weird person.

‘Dad-‘

‘Soren,’ Viren replied with a sigh in his voice. ‘Please don’t ask me.’

‘Sorry,’ the blonde replied.

From the way she kept looking around Callum and Ezran, Soren knew that Claudia wanted to come and chat to him, to discuss all the possible reasons why Aaravos would know their dad. They would no doubt talk about it at length later in the day, but people were starting to file into the tent, chattering excitedly amongst themselves.

Soren felt the buzz of apprehension that came with the lowering of the lights and the swelling of the circus music; it was dark and mysterious, and it called to him in a way that nothing else had since his accident.

He noticed his father tense up beside him as Aaravos appeared in the sand, looking ethereal under the soft lighting. It hit his costume perfectly, he glittered as he moved this way and that, his white hair almost glowing. His twisted horns curved high up to the trapeze wires that crossed over the top of the ring, and his voice boomed over the music.

‘ _Ladies and gentlemen, and all those in between…_ ’ he called, arms out wide. His perfectly timed pause solicited cheers from an excited audience. ‘ _Welcome… to Cirque du Xadia_.’

Viren visibly swallowed as the Ringmaster trained his hypnotic stare on him, and Soren could sense that there were layers in that one sentence. His dad knew Aaravos, and he knew him well enough to have _inside jokes_ even now, potentially decades later.

The Ringmaster continued his spiel and introduced the fire manipulator, Janai. Again, in her rich red costume, accented in gold, she stole the stage, and the breath of everyone watching.

The acts continued on until the intermission, and Soren let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding as the clown, Villads with a silent D, zipped out of the ring on a unicycle, an eyepatch on each eye and a talking bird on his head.

‘Are you enjoying yourself?’ Viren asked Ezran, who was wiggling around in his chair.

‘Did you see her make Rayla disappear!’ Ezran asked, his voice rising in both pitch and volume. ‘And the girl with the dog!’

‘Just you wait,’ Soren said with a grin. ‘It’s only going to get better.’

Viren sent Claudia, Callum and Ezran for snacks and drinks, and helped Soren readjust in his chair.

‘Do you have any pain?’ his dad asked, resting his son’s hands on the armrests.

‘A little in my lower back?’ Soren replied, looking down at his hips. ‘It’s not too bad though. I can manage.’

‘Let me know if you need any painkillers,’ Viren replied, offering his son the water with a straw.

Soren nodded, sipping eagerly at the liquid as he watched people moving quickly around the ring in the dark, setting up the last of the trapeze wires.

‘Why do you hate the circus?’ Soren asked curiously.

‘I thought I told you not to ask about that.’

‘You told me not to ask about Aaravos. Nothing about circuses in general.’

Viren gave him an annoyed look, clearly unhappy with the use of a loophole.

‘You’re not as smart as you think you are, Soren,’ his dad said finally, a small smile tugging at his lips.

‘I’m smarter than _you_ think I am,’ Soren countered.

Claudia and the others arrived before Viren could reply, saving Soren from his dad’s temper. He hadn’t gotten mad at him for months, probably out of pity for Soren’s situation, but that didn’t mean Soren wanted to invite it.

His dad was awful when he was angry.

Viren held the jelly tart at the right height for Soren to take a few bites, and the two were silent as the rest of the audience took their seats.

The show itself continued. Gren and Corvus took his breath away once again and even his dad couldn’t help but clap with a little more enthusiasm, clearly impressed. This time Soren made sure to actually pay attention to the rest of the show and he learned that Rayla was one of the trapeze artists.

She soared gracefully above their heads, literally trusting her partner with her life as she fell. The man who’d worked the ticket box earlier was the other flyer; he gripped her ankles as he hung from his own swing, knees wrapped around the bar.

After the trapeze, Soren was delighted to see Gren take the ring again. He looked more like himself now, in a glittery red costume that hid very little of his physique.

Joining Gren, also in red, was the little girl from the first half of the show, who worked with the dog. Between them was a weirdly shaped chair.

With a flourish that made Soren laugh a little, Gren lay on the chair with his legs in the air. His assistant came back into view with a brightly coloured barrel in her arms. It was comically large and she hammed up the struggle as she carried it across the ring.

She dropped it on the floor and waved her arms to get the crowd involved. Once everyone was clapping in time with the bouncy music, she picked the barrel up and tossed it lightly towards Gren.

The redhead caught it on his feet and bounced it lightly on his toes, making it spin. With an easy flick he tossed the barrel high in the air and caught it again.

More applause.

This act was more lighthearted than his duo with Corvus, and Soren could see that Gren was really enjoying himself. As he posed with one leg out to the side, balancing the glittery barrel on the tip of his toe, he flashed the audience a playful grin.

His eyes managed to meet Soren’s, and the cheeky redhead _winked_ at him.

With another flourish of his hands, Gren kicked the barrel high in the air and caught it in his hands, then tossed it lightly to his assistant. She rolled it away and produced two little boxes. With a giggle, she threw them one after the other, and Gren caught one on each of his feet.

As the music picked up it’s pace, the redhead bounced the cubes around on his toes, making them spin and swapping feet. He even crossed his legs over and made a show of a big yawn.

_This is easy_ , he was saying.

He kicked the cubes over to his assistant and spun in the chair with a flick of his hips, arms out wide.

Soren whistled loudly since he couldn’t applaud, and even Viren clapped politely beside him. The blonde pretended not to notice his father looking at him strangely and just focused on Gren’s pale blue eyes.

The girl in the red dress jumped onto the seat in front of Gren and gave a wave. With a bit of manoeuvring, Gren found himself back in his original position, and the girl took his hands and hoisted herself, so she was sitting on his feet.

Gren’s thigh muscles tensed, and he threw the girl into the air. She did a complete somersault, and he caught her neatly on the flat of his feet.

Soren caught Ezran jumping to his feet with a gasp and smiled. There was something about the circus, the death-defying acts, it just made people _happy_.

And Soren was _happy_ here.

Gren continued flipping the girl around, somersaults, barrel rolls, a half twist every now and again. Every time she lifted into the air his heart skipped a beat, leaving him breathless. There was something about the controlled athleticism that struck a chord with him.

But unlike the delicate beauty and precision of his routine with Corvus, this performance was chaotic, lively, it made his heart _race_ instead of _stop_.

It struck Soren a moment later as the smaller athlete landed on Gren’s feet, standing tall. The pair were having _fun_.

With a somersault and a clever pose in the middle of the ring, the two finished their routine with matching grins. Unlike the strength performance, Gren didn’t mind offering his young partner an enthusiastic high five, and he gestured to her in order to generate more applause.

They darted out of the ring as the music lowered, and Aaravos took a place in the spotlight instead.

‘ _Can I get an extra round of applause for young Ellis, as this is her first time doing the risley act as a permanent part of the show!_ ’

Soren snuck a glance at his dad, who was staring at Aaravos with an unreadable expression.

As the show continued, Soren was able to appreciate more than he’d seen the first time. When the troupe gathered together for a final bow, their whole row got to their feet to cheer. Except Soren, and his father, naturally.

‘ _We thank you all for coming to Cirque du Xadia, we’ll be here for the whole month! Share the magic with your family and friends,’_ Aaravos said with a low sweeping bow. ‘ _Enjoy the rest of your night!_ ’

The cast vanished behind the curtain, and the generic background music picked up. Viren got to his feet and straightened his coat.

‘Ready?’ he asked, undoing the brakes on Soren’s wheelchair.

‘No wait,’ he said, shooting a panicked glance at Claudia. ‘Not yet, they’ll come and say hi.’

‘I’m sure they’re tired,’ Viren countered, turning the wheelchair from the ring and starting to push Soren away.

‘Claudia?’

‘Dad, hang on,’ his sister said, standing in front of the chair. ‘Corvus usually comes to say hi, we want to wait for him.’

Soren had never been more grateful for his annoying sister, and Viren merely gritted his teeth in response. He let the handles of the wheelchair go, and let Claudia realign it and put the brakes on. His sister squeezed his forearm, a visual sign of solidarity.

He hated the feeling of being helpless. The fact that anyone could wheel him wherever they wanted without his consent usually made the beginnings of a panic attack close up his throat, but Claudia’s presence calmed him down. But Claudia wouldn’t always be there, and his dad wasn’t always the best at listening to his children and what they wanted to do.

‘You okay?’ Claudia whispered, kneeling beside him.

‘Yeah,’ he said, voice breaking a little. ‘Thirsty though. Can I have some water?’

As people slowly left the tent around them, Soren could feel his anticipation building. He knew the troupe members probably only took any notice of him out of pity, but the feeling was one he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

Sure enough, Corvus and Gren peeped out from behind the curtain. Once it was safe they jogged lightly across the sand, followed by Ellis and Rayla.

‘Rayla!’ Ezran called, hanging over the barrier with an excited grin. ‘You were so cool! You were flying like a crazy person!’

She flashed them a huge grin, her and Ellis drawn to the younger members of their group.

‘Better than last night?’ Corvus asked Soren with a wave, and the blonde nodded.

‘I didn’t realise it was Gren doing your routine and also the risley. You don’t look anything like yourself,’ Soren said with a smirk.

‘It’s all the blue paint. Something about being artistic? I don’t get it. Risley is way more fun,’ Gren laughed. Even though he’d scrubbed the paint off, and even performed since the strongmen duo, Soren could still see a few flecks of blue in the startling red of his hair.

‘You came back so soon, did you miss us that much?’ Corvus said with a wink.

‘He begged to come back,’ Claudia interjected with a wink.

‘I- no, I didn’t… she’s just being- Claudia!’ Soren sputtered.

‘Viren?’

The group spun to see Aaravos standing in the aisle behind them. He raised a hand and quirked a single finger, signalling for Viren to follow.

Soren watched in shock as his father did exactly as he was asked, craning his neck until he physically couldn’t move any further.

The two stepped out of the entrance to the tent without another word.

‘Do they know each other?’ Gren asked, eyebrow raised.

‘Probably, but dad won’t tell me anything,’ Soren sighed.

‘Aaravos probably thinks he’s pretty,’ Corvus snorted.

Claudia stuck her tongue out in disgust.

‘Gren!’ Ezran interrupted, leaning across the barrier. ‘You flipped Ellis around on your feet, do you think you could flip me too?’

The redhead laughed heartily, arms crossed over his chest. ‘Ellis went through a lot of practice to be able to flip like that,’ he said with a bright smile.

‘Yeah,’ Rayla interrupted, hands on her hips. ‘And Ellis only got the job because _I_ moved on to trapeze!’

‘Say what you like, Ray ray,’ Gren teased. ‘But you’re still Lujanne’s magical girl assistant, and Ellis has her act with Ava.’

‘Yeah!’ Ellis piped up. ‘Rayla’s butt got too _big_ for Gren to lift and…’

‘That’s enough of that.’

Soren craned his neck so quickly it cracked. Aaravos and Viren stood shoulder to shoulder in the entrance. The ringmaster’s face was impassive, whereas Viren just looked bored.

‘It’s getting late. I need to get Callum and Ezran home,’ Viren said quietly.

Soren’s face must have fallen at the thought, because Gren jumped over the barrier with an awkward half-skip and a wonky smile.

‘Hey, you’ll come back, right?’ he asked hopefully.

Well, Soren hoped it was hopefully.

‘Yeah,’ the blonde assured him. ‘Yeah of course.’

‘You’re welcome to come back during the day if you’re looking for something to do?’ Aaravos offered, moving towards the group and leaving Viren at the door. ‘We practice every day, sometimes acts that aren’t in the show.’

‘You wouldn’t mind?’ Soren asked.

The Ringmaster’s lips curled into a smile; he still looked like he had some kind of master plan, but Soren didn’t even mind, he was reeling. He was allowed to come back, during the day.

‘It would be really cool to practice with an audience,’ Gren said.

‘I have to work tomorrow, and Claudia has classes,’ Viren pointed out. ‘Soren has no way of getting here.’

‘Oh, I could bring him here,’ Claudia said quickly, but Viren cut her off with a look.

‘I understand that you want your brother to be happy, but you have classes and your education is important,’ he said with a sense of finality. ‘We can discuss this more on the way home, it’s getting late.’

Claudia lowered the brakes on Soren’s chair and began to manoeuvre him out into the aisle.

‘You’re welcome here at any time,’ Aaravos said to him with a soft smile. ‘Don’t let your grumpy father dictate your life.’

‘Aaravos,’ Viren warned. ‘Callum, Ezran, to the car please.’

Soren gave the performers a sheepish smile as Claudia wheeled him backwards down the little aisle, feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up his neck and warm up his ears.

‘Hey Soren, wait,’ Gren said quickly, sticking his hand in the pocket of his tracksuit pants. ‘Here, if you’re able to come down just… give us the heads up, yeah?’

In his hands was a slip of paper with a phone number written in Gren’s tidy scrawl. Soren stared at it, his heart racing in his ears.

Gren’s face began to fall a little before Claudia reached over and plucked it from the redhead’s grip.

‘I’ll take care of that,’ she said with a smile. ‘Thanks Gren! Great show everyone!’

Soren wished that he could just melt through the bottom of his chair, through the ground and just stay there, buried forever, so that he never had to look into Gren’s pretty blue eyes ever again.

Part of his embarrassment came from a place of insecurity, and he was aware enough of his own feelings to acknowledge that. Gren was _obviously_ not flirting, because who in their right mind would _flirt_ with someone who couldn’t even accept their phone number?

The other part of his embarrassment was totally made up of a real desire for Gren to be flirting. For someone to look past the chair, the massive amount of care he needed, the burden he was on anyone close to him, and to see Soren for who he was.

A handsome, funny, kinda clever sometimes when it was important, handsome guy.

He stayed in his own head as he was loaded into the back of the van, and while Callum and Ezran were dropped off at their house. Harrow waved from the doorstep, probably. Since he couldn’t wave back, Soren knew he was safe from being called rude when he just closed his eyes and concentrated on the rumbling of the van beneath him.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

His dad insisted that he stay and have dinner with them, even though Soren was dying to get out of his chair and lay in his bed by himself.

‘So what’s with you and Aaravos?’ Claudia asked, and Viren’s fork paused halfway to his mouth.

‘I don’t know what you’re referring to,’ he replied after a moment.

Soren snorted and accepted a mouthful of mashed potatoes from Claudia. She’d gotten good at feeding him and herself at the same time.

‘Oh please, it was like you saw a ghost,’ she pressed. ‘How do you know him?’

‘We met when we were very young, were good friends for some time, and then never saw each other again once the circus left town. Nothing to get all excited about,’ Viren grumbled. ‘We merely caught up.’

‘Is that what the kids are calling it these days?’ Soren asked Claudia, and she grinned back at him.

‘Enough,’ Viren snapped, getting to his feet even though his plate was only half eaten. ‘Claudia, I expect you to get an early night, you have classes tomorrow morning. And Soren, I’ll arrange for Marcos to come over tomorrow and keep you company.’

Their father stormed out of the room, leaving his dinner behind.

‘He’s such a baby,’ Claudia sighed, putting her fork down. ‘You just wanna go to bed, Sor-bear?’

‘I think so,’ Soren said with a yawn.

Claudia wheeled him into his room and started his night routine without complaint. He chewed his lip while she worked.

‘Hey Claudia?’

‘Mm?’

‘Do you still have, uh, Gren’s number?’

Claudia smiled and patted her pocket. ‘Sure do. Want me to put it in your phone? I can set up your voice control too if you want to text him.’

Panic clutched at Soren’s heart, so his response automatically turned into ‘no, no don’t worry’.

Claudia did it anyway, and after recruiting a sulky Viren to help get Soren out of his chair and into his bed, left him alone to play with the voice control on his phone.

‘Okay,’ he breathed. Claudia had set up his phone on a stand, so he could at least see it, and it had been upgraded with more voice control options for ease of access. ‘Hey Siri?’

‘ _How can I help?_ ’

‘Message Gren.’

‘… _what would you like me to say?_ ’

Ah, shit. Now he had to actually _construct_ a text.

‘ _I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. What would you like me to say?_ ’

‘Hi, it’s Soren. Thanks for giving me your number?’

‘ _Your message says; “Hi it’s Sauron thanks for giving me your number” is this okay?_ ’

‘No,’ Soren grumbled. ‘I’m not a big evil eye Siri.’

‘ _I don’t understand I’m not a big evil eye but I can search the web for it?_ ’

‘Ack,’ Soren growled, banging his head against his pillow in frustration. ‘Nevermind, oh my god.’

Siri went quiet, and he was left to his festering thoughts. Gren probably thought he was pathetic and had given him his number out of pity.

But what if he hadn’t?

What if he was sitting in his trailer at the circus, waiting for Soren to text him?

The mental image of Gren watching his phone intently made his heart lift a little. Out of pity or not, the redhead _had_ given Soren his number, and he _had_ asked him to text him. And if Gren ghosted him, or pretended the number was wrong, that would be fine too.

It’s not like he was in love or anything. He was simply _interested_.

And Gren had showed some kind of interest as well.

He thought.

Hm.

‘Hi, it’s Soren, thanks for giving me your number,’ he rehearsed to himself. Be natural. Be casual.

‘ _Sending; “His it’s Sauron thanks for giving me your number” to Gren._ ’

‘No!’

‘ _Message sent_.’

Soren made a panicked sound in the back of his throat like an animal dying.

He must have done some really shitty things in his past life to deserve all this.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

The trailer was cold, so Gren had found an oversized jumper with some sports logo splashed across the chest to keep him warm. He was sitting at his little table, a beer in one hand and his face in the other.

‘I can’t believe I did that,’ he moaned, letting his face slide down his hand until his forehead hit the table with a thud.

‘I know, you’ve said it like fifty times,’ Corvus sighed, resting his head against the back of the seat opposite.

‘Who just _hands_ a piece of paper to someone who can’t use their _hands_ , Cor?’ Gren mumbled.

Corvus just snorted, helping himself to the untouched plate of food that Gren had ignored in his cringey pity party.

‘I’m sure he’s forgotten all about it,’ he said, attempting to cheer his friend up. ‘Don’t worry, he’s probably tired from being out and about, he’ll text you tomorrow.’

The sound of Gren’s phone vibrating on the table made them both flinch.

The redhead snatched it up and unlocked it with a swipe, his eyes wide and hopeful.

‘Hi, it’s Sauron, thanks for giving me your number – aahh, he doesn’t hate me, thank god!’ Gren’s shoulders sagged with relief.

‘Sauron? Like Lord of the Rings? I didn’t pin that grumpy old guy as a super nerd,’ Corvus said, taking the phone from Gren’s hands.

‘That’s kinda cool though,’ Gren thought, reaching out for his phone.

It buzzed again, but this time a faceless icon took up the entire screen.

_Incoming Call._

‘He’s ringing, why is he ringing?’ Gren yelped, his thumb hovering over the answer button. ‘Corvus what could he possibly want?’

The dark skinned performed smirked and squeezed Gren’s finger down on the screen, answering the call.

‘Good luck!’ he chirped, getting to his feet and leaving the trailer.

‘Ahh, hello?’ Gren said, holding the phone to his ear.

‘ _Hi! Sorry, it’s Soren. From earlier. And yesterday_.’

‘Yeah, hi Soren. You, uh… you okay?’

‘ _Yeah! I was playing with my voice control and Siri can’t spell my name? She thought it was Sauron like… Tolkien-Sauron… but it’s not. And I just wanted to tell you, I guess._ ’

Soren sounded just as wary as he did, and a little distant.

‘Yeah, I was wondering about that,’ Gren said with a smile, leaning back against the chair. ‘Do you have me on speakerphone?’

‘ _Uh yeah, I can’t hold my phone so… it runs through a speaker system in my room_.’

‘Oh yeah, of course. Sorry.’

‘ _Why are you sorry? Did you do something wrong?_ ’

Gren started, but Soren’s chuckle on the other end told him the blonde was joking.

‘Oh, ha ha, very funny.’

‘ _A lot of people apologise to me. I don’t know why. It’s not their fault. If I call them out on it then they laugh and relax._ ’

‘It works,’ Gren agreed, sipping at his beer. ‘I feel much better now!’

Soren laughed down the other end of the line.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

It was late when Soren finally hung up and prepared for sleep. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he was happy.

He missed just _talking_ to people.

And Gren was excellent conversation.

The last thought Soren had before he fell asleep was the realisation that Gren had had his phone number already prepared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember; leaving comments lets authors know they're doing a good job!  
> Thank you very much for reading, and if you enjoyed you can share around my tumblr post to get the word out!  
> Come yell at me on tumblr @aaravosed


	3. ACT III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soren and his carer, Marcos, spend time with Cirque du Xadia during practice time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gave me such a hard time, so I'm sorry.   
> A huge thank you to both Su, as always, and also Porsche, for all your help and encouragement!

✪  ✪  ✪

_~~Everything you want is right in front of you~~ _

✪  ✪  ✪

 

Marcos was the best money could buy.

Unfortunately for Soren, it was his dad’s money that paid for him, and that meant that Marcos did whatever his dad wanted him to do.

Which meant explicitly ‘do not take Soren to the circus under any circumstances.’

It wasn’t that Marcos was a bad guy, it was just that in his frustrations Soren desperately wanted to run him over with his wheelchair.

‘It’s gotta be the blonde in the weird boots,’ Marcos said, looking at Soren for back up.

He was parked in the living room in front of the tv watching some old cop show from the nineties. Marcos had made him lunch, and he’d been getting texts from Gren all morning, but with someone there to supervise him it just felt weird to reply using the voice commands.

**GREN: im assuming that ur not replying bc marcos is there**  
                GREN: just pretend that u have an appointment and give him our address  
                GREN: soren  
                GREN: sauron   
                GREN: fuck corvus just dropped his cyr wheel on his head  
                GREN: lol he mad

Soren didn’t laugh; that would make Marcos curious. His carer was always prattling on about how he _needed friends_ or whatever. He couldn’t help but smile as the texts came through though. Last night during their call, Gren had asked about what he did all day, and Soren had been forced to admit that he did _nothing_ all day, unless he had therapies.

‘Marcos?’ Soren asked, and the dark-haired man tugged his gaze away from the tv.

‘Yeah?’

‘You work for my dad,’ Soren stated, his eyebrows knitting together in a little frown. ‘Right?’

‘I mean, my job is to make sure you’re comfortable and healthy, but he’s the one paying me so… I don’t really know, it gets confusing. Why?’ Marcos asked, muting the tv since it was clear Soren wanted to chat.

‘Well, would you say my mental health is technically under the health banner?’ Soren asked, eyebrow quirked.

Marcos rolled his eyes. ‘Dude, you’re a grown ass adult, if you have something to say then say it.’

‘I want to go hang out at Cirque du Xadia,’ the blonde said with a decisive nod. ‘My dad said I wasn’t allowed to, but he’s not even here and like you said I’m a grown ass adult. This chair doesn’t change my right to live a damn life.’

‘Your dad literally didn’t say anything to me about not being allowed anywhere. Is that why you’re sulking?’ He laughed, and Soren scowled. ‘Don’t stress, we’ll pack up and get going now.’

‘No, no,’ Soren interrupted. ‘Finish the episode first, I’m not a monster.’

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

The big top looked very different in the daytime. It was still intriguing, calling to him, but this time he had it all to himself.

Marcos wheeled him into the courtyard, past the empty ticket booth and through the food trailers. It smelled of stale popcorn and the plastic of the huge tent, and Soren breathed it so deep into his lungs that he coughed.

‘Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?’ Marcos whispered, leaning over the back of the chair to get close to Soren’s ear.

‘No, they said it was okay,’ the blonde replied, looking around. Even so, there was a sense of anxiety in his chest now; what if they hadn’t meant it? Or Aaravos rescinded his offer?

‘Soren?’

He whipped his head around so fast that his neck cracked, and relief washed over him when he saw Rayla stepping out from between two of the trailers. ‘Rayla! Hi, sorry… Aaravos said we could come visit…’

‘Yeah, they’re all in the top now. Aaravos is giving the daily plan!’ she said with her big grin.

Since she wasn’t performing any time soon, Rayla didn’t look like the elven princess she played during the show. Instead of her sparkly spandex she was wearing a pair of black leggings and a casual grey top with loose shoulders. She didn’t have any of the fancy horns, and her platinum hair was pulled back into a high ponytail. He was surprised to find that she wore her coloured contacts during the day too, because she couldn’t _actually_ have violet eyes, could she?

Marcos pushed Soren through the dark entrance to the tent after Rayla. The lights were much brighter than they were during a show; no fancy colours or dramatic shadows, just practical white lighting so they could see everything clearly.

The troupe stood in the ring in their casual clothes, gathered in a loose circle around Aaravos, who stood on a painted box from the clown routine.

‘Rayla, you’re late again,’ the ringmaster barked, hands on his hips.

‘I found a stray!’ she called back, gesturing behind her. She showed Marcos where he could park Soren, and then jumped over the barrier.

From somewhere in the back, Gren stuck his hand up and waved. Soren just grinned in response.

‘I didn’t think you’d be here,’ Aaravos said with a knowing smile.

It took Soren a few moments to recognise everyone out of costume, but Aaravos would radiate that strange cosmic energy wearing a hessian sack.

His hair was apparently even brighter than Rayla’s, tucked into a messy braid that fell over one shoulder. Even without his decorative horns he was impossibly tall, towering over the rest of the troupe by a significant margin. He was wearing a pair of grey figure-hugging leggings and a purple shirt with a v-neck that exposed a sliver of his chest.

No wonder his dad reacted the way he did.

‘My dad isn’t the boss of me,’ Soren said with a half-smile. ‘But me and Marcos aren’t gonna tell him anyway, are we?’

‘What Viren doesn’t know won’t hurt him,’ Marcos agreed from the seat beside Soren. ‘I’m Marcos by the way, hi everyone.’

Aaravos stepped down from the box and waved the troupe over to Soren. They regathered together, some stepping over the barrier to be in the stands, and others in the ring. The Ringmaster was including him in the discussion.

‘Okay, where were we… right. Ellis and Gren want to practice their risley, Rayla wants to practice her lyra, and Corvus the cyr on the new sand. Does anyone else have anything they want to do in the ring today?’

Janai raised her hand. ‘The new tightropes, if there’s time.’

‘Of course, sorry, we’ll get the ropes sorted and have water on standby.’

Janai nodded her thanks without another word.

‘Excellent,’ Aaravos said with a clap of his hands. ‘Lujanne, you’re on lunch. If I find a worm in my food I will leave you behind when we move. Tin, Gren says he’s got a tear in his risley costume, can I get you to look at that? No one needs to see his backside mid-performance. Villads, you and Berto are on ticket box tonight, and Janai you’re on merch. Runaan, please ensure all the high wires are in place. Does anyone have an questions?’

The group mumbled various agreements, and the ringmaster clapped his hands together.

‘Get moving, we’re burning daylight.’

Like ants in the rain, the troupe scattered, leaving Soren turning his head back and forth to keep up with them. Aaravos returned with a folding chair and sat on his other side, in the aisle.

‘It’s not as exciting as the show,’ he began, crossing one long leg over the other. ‘But it’s interesting nonetheless.’

‘I don’t know what it is about this place,’ Soren confessed. Something about the Ringmaster made him feel like he could talk freely. ‘I just love being here. I’d never given it a thought before the accident but now I just _want_ to be here.’

Aaravos smiled, toying with the ends of his braid. Soren noticed that his nails were painted purple with silver glitter over the top. How extra could this man get?

‘The circus is some of the last remnants of magic in this world,’ he said quietly, gesturing to Gren and Ellis setting up in the ring. ‘It comes into town promising to bewilder and enchant, with lights and fun and this iconic tent. It ensnares its audiences for a brief time, and then it’s gone like nothing happened.’

Soren stared at the Ringmaster, processing his words. In a matter of days, Cirque du Xadia had changed his life, somehow. He hadn’t given any thought to the fact that it would be leaving just as quickly as it had blazed into his life.

‘I’ll be sad to see you go,’ he said eventually, a tiny hitch in his voice.

‘It is sad,’ Aaravos agreed. ‘And it’s worse when we leave someone behind who became part of the family, no matter how brief the time was.’

Soren focused on the pair in the ring, letting the Ringmaster’s statement hang in the air. Ellis seemed to be doing most of the work, since Gren was too busy yawning. The blonde felt his ears heat up in embarrassment – they’d been up late talking on the phone, so it was _technically_ Soren’s fault that the acrobat was exhausted.

Ellis darted over to them with a wide smile on her face. ‘Soren!’ she called, leaning against the barrier. ‘Make sure you’re watching! I’m practicing a new trick and I wanna be able to show you during a show before we leave, okay?’

Soren nodded, but as the girl spun on her heel and headed back to the centre of the ring, he caught Gren’s eye. The redhead was smiling at him, however he focused on the risley chair the minute they made eye contact.

‘He likes you, you know,’ Aaravos said quietly so that Gren couldn’t hear. ‘He’s happy you’re here.’

‘We’re just friends,’ Soren said quickly. ‘We only met a few days ago.’

‘The heart knows what it wants,’ Aaravos reminded him, uncrossing his legs and switching them over. ‘Gren is very much a person who relies on his heart over his head.’

‘Again, just friends,’ Soren repeated. Gren was a really nice guy, but he wasn’t interested in Soren that way. Maybe before his accident. Hell, Soren didn’t even know if Gren was into guys.

‘Gren,’ Aaravos called, and the redhead looked up from what he was doing. ‘Please take time to warm up; you look dead on your feet.’

‘I didn’t get to sleep until late,’ Gren replied, scratching the back of his neck. ‘We’ll be careful.’

Soren chuckled as he heard Ellis mutter something like ‘you ruin everything’ as Gren lay on the risley chair.

They practiced throwing and catching various items, including Marcos’ shoes when Ellis had asked him sweetly. Then Ellis nimbly climbed onto the chair and let Gren balance her lightly on his feet. Unlike the show, they called beats to each other in practice to make sure they timed them right.

When Gren had flipped Ellis up so that she was standing upright on his feet, she called out to Corvus, who was standing off to the side.

Soren watched with interest as Corvus took on the role of a teacher. He demonstrated a smooth handstand, spoke to her a bit more and then patted the heavy mat on the ground, as if to assure her that he was there to help.

‘We take the safety of all our performers very seriously,’ Aaravos said, gesturing to the ring. ‘But because Ellis is only young, we always have Corvus or myself instructing her as she practices. Gren helps when he’s not acting as her base, but we don’t want him to get distracted and make things more difficult.’

Ellis wiggled her toes back, and Gren’s legs shook with the effort of keeping her upright.

‘Aaravos?’ Corvus called, and the Ringmaster was over the barrier in a heartbeat, standing below Ellis as Corvus stood on the risley chair to support her, one foot on either side of Gren’s head.

‘You kinda forget that they need to practice,’ Marcos whispered, offering Soren a drink.

‘Right?’ he agreed, sipping at the straw.

Ellis slowly lifted herself into a handstand on Gren’s feet, her toes pointed and her arms shaking with exertion and to keep her balance. The base let out a cheer of encouragement, one that was echoed by the others spotting the two. There was a big stupid grin on her face – this was clearly something she had been practicing.

‘Can you get down again?’ Aaravos asked, and Ellis licked her lips.

‘I can try.’

Soren’s heart jumped into his throat as her elbows collapsed almost immediately. The three men leapt into action, with Gren bending his knees and Corvus reaching out to catch her. Aaravos also had his arms out to catch her, so she was safe no matter which way she fell.

She tumbled onto the mat, with Aaravos’ hand around one of her arms. The sound of her smacking the mat in disappointment was loud enough to reach Soren.

‘Every time,’ she moaned.

‘You just need to practice,’ Gren offered. ‘We can do handstands _all afternoon_ if that’s what you wanna do.’

‘You can do handstands better than me, Ellis!’ Soren called, grinning.

That made the girl giggle and she lay back on the mat.

Soren watched them pack up the risley gear in swift, practiced movements while Corvus wheeled in his giant hoop – the cyr wheel. He flashed Soren a cheesy grin before spinning the hoop around a few times, leaving deliberate lines in the sand.

Gren slipped into the seat just behind Soren and leaned forward. ‘Thought you said you weren’t coming?’ he said softly, shuffling forward so his bum was on the very edge of his seat.

‘Marcos here reminded me that I’m actually 21 and I don’t need my dad to tell me what I can and cannot do,’ Soren snorted, craning his neck to be able to see the redhead.

‘Good job Marcos,’ Gren said with a yawn.

Marcos smiled and offered to move across a seat so that the performer could actually join them. His long legs knocked Soren’s chair as he stepped over, and he apologised so profusely that Soren couldn’t help but chuckle.

‘So are you gonna be around a lot more now that you’re pretty much allowed to walk in and out of here as you please?’ Gren asked.

Soren raised an amused eyebrow at his word choice, and Gren’s face went white.

‘I didn’t- I mean- shit, Soren I’m so sorry,’ he blustered, covering his mouth with his hands to avoid saying anything else particularly stupid.

‘Uh,’ Soren cleared his throat, fighting a smile. ‘Yeah, that’s the plan. Unless I have appointments or whatever.’

Gren just nodded, hands still hiding his mouth.

Soren took the moment to admire his face; Gren had so many more freckles than Soren had even thought possible, a spatter of constellations across his nose and cheeks. His hair wasn’t a fiery red, but rather a strawberry, mixed in with some blonde that shone when it caught the lights in the right way.

And his eyes, god. Now Soren had blue eyes, he knew that since they’d been staring back at him from mirrors his whole life. But Gren’s eyes were a whole other world of blue. Pale and expressive (if by expressive he meant horrified and probably still beating himself up for the walking comment), they looked like a clear lake on a sunny day.

‘Soren?’ Gren asked, eyebrows knitting together in concern. ‘You okay?’

‘You’re pretty,’ Soren replied, matter-of-factly. ‘Your eyes are really pretty.’

He didn’t think Gren could blush anymore and yet, the boy turned redder than his hair.

‘Really?’ he asked, his voice cracking a little halfway through. ‘I mean… thanks, I guess.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Soren replied, oddly calm despite the fact that he was imploding in his own head. He hadn’t meant to say it _out loud_. But then, Gren’s reaction had definitely made it worth the embarrassment in front of Marcos and Aaravos. ‘Marcos, can I have my water please?’

Gren made a point of focusing very hard on Corvus’ cyr practice, staring dead ahead while Soren side-eyed him with an amused smirk.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

It turned out that Lujanne the illusionist did not make worms for lunch, but instead she had prepared rows and rows of neat sandwiches cut into triangles. Marcos found Soren a spot at the end of a plastic pop up table out the back of the big top in a communal area surrounded by trucks and trailers.

He waited patiently, a little anxiety rising in his throat at the idea of being fed in front of everyone. Sandwiches weren’t the worst food, but they could be messy depending on what was in them. When Marcos brought him back a salad filled triangle overflowing with lettuce leaves and tomato slices, his heart sank.

‘I’ll be careful,’ his carer said discreetly, dragging his chair closer to the wheelchair, balancing two plates in the one hand.

Gren dropped into the chair on the other side of the wheelchair, tossing a plate of sandwiches haphazardly onto the table. He had a stupid grin on his face, obviously having recovered from his awkward comments earlier, and also Soren’s compliment.

Or maybe, possibly, in some universe, it was Soren’s compliment that had made the redheaded performer so _giddy_.

The idea made him preen a little. He’d been able to make girls and boys alike swoon when he’d been able to walk, but he’d given up any chance of flirting and courting and love when he’d been hurt.

The idea of making Gren _blush_ and _smile_ and _laugh_ like some kind of smitten teenager made Soren feel incredible.

‘What did you end up with?’ he asked, peering over at the plate.

‘Salad I think,’ Soren replied, apprehension rising again as Marcos offered him the sandwich. The dark-haired carer gave him a sympathetic smile as Soren took a small bite from the corner. His teeth tugged on the crust and he avoided Gren’s gaze as he chewed.

‘You got salad? Lujanne only makes a few of those because there’s too many ingredients. I got… ham I think. It looks like ham,’ the redhead continued. ‘You want some?’

Soren blinked a few times as Gren offered him half of his sandwich. The acrobat’s hand wavered a little, since Soren obviously couldn’t _take_ the food, but instead of putting in on a plate, he just lifted it higher.

The blonde stared at it for a heartbeat or two, then took a bite from the proffered sandwich. Gren gave him a sheepish smile and Soren’s blood raced in his ears.

It was that classic age-old dilemma; did this person like him, or did he feel sorry for him?

Did Gren actually see him as someone that he could have feelings for? Or was Soren just seeing what he wanted to see in the other man’s actions?

‘So,’ Soren said, looking around the camp for a reason to change the subject. ‘Who is everyone and what do they do?’

Gren shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth before answering. ‘Okay so you know Aaravos and Rayla and Ellis and Corvus,’ he began, pointing at a few of the other tables.

‘Yeah, why’s Corvus over there? Doesn’t like me anymore?’ Soren asked with a teasing grin.

Corvus chose that moment to give Gren a wink and a thumbs up.

Weird.

‘No, he’s just a jerk,’ Gren said quickly, pointing over at another table. ‘That’s Lujanne, she does the magic act with Rayla. Sitting with her is Runaan, he’s a hand balancer, and also Rayla’s trapeze partner.’

Soren nodded along, trying to commit the information to memory.

‘Next to Runaan is his husband Tinker. Tink does all our props and costumes and stuff, he’s _really_ good at making cool stuff. He made all of Lujanne’s illusions work which is kinda cool. They’re Rayla’s guardians, so they brought her here when she was really little apparently,’ Gren chattered, resting his chin on his hands and his elbows on the table.

‘So they joined the circus as a family. Cute,’ Soren interjected, watching the two chat with Lujanne.

Gren hummed in agreement.

Marcos offered Soren more of his sandwich, and he jerked his chin over to another table, where Aaravos was sitting.

‘That’s Janai?’ he asked.

‘Yep, fire master Janai, makes sure everything behind the scenes runs smoothly. She’s also incredible on the trapeze, teaching Rayla the lyra _and_ she’s putting together a high wire act!’ Gren said, his voice creeping up in volume as he got excited.

‘She’s also the person who convinced me to partner with Corvus and expand my skills,’ he added.

‘Ah, so I have _her_ to thank for that routine,’ Soren said with a smirk.

Gren gave him a bright smile and a nod. ‘She made sure I could base Cor without killing either of us.’

‘She did a good job,’ Soren noted, and Gren’s ears went red again.

How many compliments would it take for his entire head to just… explode? Soren kinda wanted to find out.

Soren finished eating, which gave Marcos a chance to finish his sandwich, and the members of the troupe slowly started getting ready for the rest of the afternoon.

Aaravos appeared in front of Soren’s chair, his long braid resting over one shoulder and his arms crossed over his chest.

‘Gren, can you go help Corvus and Janai set up the high wire equipment please?’ he asked in his smooth voice.

‘Oh, yeah,’ Gren said, a little dejectedly. He threw a friendly wave over his shoulder as he jogged after the other performers, and Soren just smiled back.

Marcos pushed him back through the little communal space with Aaravos at his side, chatting happily about how they were trying to make the show grander, with different acts and a longer show.

Soren wasn’t really paying attention, which was probably very rude, but as he was wheeled around the ring he caught a glimpse of Corvus and Gren carrying a huge, sturdy pole.

Janai caught him staring and shot him a cheeky wink, and Soren felt the heat rise to his cheeks. He poked his tongue out in response, which made her grin.

Marcos wiggled his chair into place while Aaravos stayed in the ring to discuss the assembly of the high-flying apparatus. His carer sat beside him, offering water and more snacks just in case the sandwiches weren’t enough.

‘I can see why you like it here,’ he said quietly as Soren sipped through his straw. ‘Everyone treats you normally, huh?’

‘Yeah,’ Soren said, resting his head against the back of the wheelchair. ‘I know it’s really stupid, that I could be doing useful things but I like watching them. I don’t know if I’d feel the same about this place if I wasn’t in my wheelchair though.’

‘You probably wouldn’t,’ Marcos said, repositioning Soren’s hands for him so they looked more natural. ‘We take a lot of things for granted until we can’t use them. You might have been impressed, sure. But you’d probably just go home and never think about it again.’

‘You think?’ Soren asked, tipping his head to the side. Marcos was young, but he’d been working with others with disabilities for years now.

‘It hasn’t been very long for you, Soren,’ the dark-haired man said with a little smile. ‘It feels like forever, but 3 months is a blip of time in comparison to your life. And you’ll get used to the chair, and the appointments, and the stares, and all the bullshit. Heck, you might even get better to some degree.’

Soren let out a little groan. ‘I really hope so,’ he said, his gaze finding Gren again. ‘I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do if I can’t get better.’

‘You’ll find something,’ Marcos promised. ‘But don’t spend your whole life hanging out to get better, because it might not happen.’

The thought alone made Soren nauseous.

‘But that doesn’t mean that you can’t have all the things you wanted before. You can get your degree, and have a job, and find love,’ Marcos continued, pointing at Gren in the ring. ‘This idiot likes you enough and he didn’t even know you before you were in the chair.’

Soren snorted. ‘Gren is just incredibly friendly.’

‘Soren, you’re a dumbass. But you’re not _that_ much of a dumbass.’

The blonde stared at Marcos for a moment, then looked out at Gren tugging at ropes to keep the poles standing.

‘You think Gren actually likes me? After like three days?’ Soren asked quietly, eyes still trained on the redhead.

‘Gren texted you until like… what was it, two? Three this morning?’

‘Friends do that,’ Soren countered, and Marcos smacked him lightly in the back of the head in response.

‘Wrong answer.’

‘Gren has a wheelchair kink.’

‘Gren is too pure for any kind of kink,’ Marcos replied with a snort. ‘Stop talking yourself out of it.’

Soren banged his head lightly on the headrest of his chair. ‘It’s terrifying,’ he confessed quietly. ‘To think that someone could like me, like this. He doesn’t know all the shit I put other people through. He doesn’t know me well enough to like me.’

‘But he likes you enough to want to try,’ Marcos said, opening his phone with a swipe of his thumb. ‘And you can piss and moan all you like, but you’ll give in.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Sure thing pal. Watch your circus,’ Marcos deadpanned, not looking up from his phone.

Soren scoffed, and made sure his face was slightly angled away from his carer in a display of blatant defiance.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

Gren, Corvus, Runaan and Aaravos all stood around a heavy crash mat while Janai practiced her tightrope, using one of her fire staffs as a balance tool.

Since he was pointedly ignoring Marcos out of petty spite, he made sure to actually pay attention to the new act going on. The music in the big top was quiet, so Soren could hear what the other performers were saying to her. As time passed, the rest of the troupe trickled into the seats around Soren, offering encouragement and applause whenever she managed to complete a trick or recovered from a wobble.

Gren hadn’t even spared him a glance since Janai had been up on the rope, too busy making sure he’d be able to help if she fell. Soren was able to admire him, knowing he wouldn’t get caught.

In his grey tracksuit pants and black singlet, he looked very normal. But it was the rounded bulge of his shoulders, the slight stretch of the fabric around his thighs, the easy smile on his face as he watched his fellow performer succeed. It was the way his strawberry blonde hair was pushed back off his face, but the few random strands that fell back into his eyes.

Okay so maybe Marcos had been a little bit right. He was definitely entertaining the idea of Gren asking him out – there wasn’t a force on this earth that would make Soren do it after all.

‘If you stare any harder, he’ll explode,’ said a voice in his ear, and Soren flinched.

The smiling face of Lujanne the illusionist standing beside his chair put a sense of dread in his belly.

‘I’m not staring,’ he countered, lifting his chin.

‘Of course not,’ Lujanne said with a tiny shake of her head. ‘Gren is very sweet, and we’re all quite fond of him. Don’t break his heart.’

‘Me?’ Soren asked, incredulous. ‘How could _I_ hurt _him_?’

Lujanne simply gave a half shrug and wandered away to find a seat in the stands.

Soren turned to Marcos before he remembered that he was meant to be pretending his carer wasn’t there. The dark-haired man was just smirking smugly at him.

‘Piss off,’ Soren muttered.

Why was everyone out to get him? Wasn’t the stupid wheelchair enough already?

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

As the day wore on, the pain in Soren’s neck and back got worse, and he finally broke his vow of silence against Marcos and asked to be taken home.

Aaravos insisted on walking him back to the car, and Gren tagged along despite Runaan telling him that Janai needed at least three spotters.

Soren almost didn’t care that Gren watched him move upwards on the lift into the car, because he’d chased after them to see him off and _maybe Marcos was on to something_.

‘Are you coming back?’ Gren asked casually, sticking his hands in his pockets.

‘Not tomorrow,’ Soren replied, closing his eyes as the lift shuddered beneath him. ‘I have some kind of appointment. I dunno what it is off the top of my head.’

‘Yeah, but,’ Gren said, looking down at his feet. ‘I mean, you’ll come back at some point, right?’

Soren waited for the redhead to look up at him before he answered; his clear lake blue eyes meeting dark ocean blue eyes. The blonde gave him a genuine smile and rolled his eyes.

‘Aw Gren, you gonna miss me?’

Ah yes. In the face of someone who likes you, resort to making fun of them. Way to go, Sor-bear.

‘You look like you enjoy it here,’ Gren replied honestly. ‘But yeah. You don’t have to, obviously. But… yeah.’

‘I mean, Ellis wants to show me all her cool handstands,’ Soren pointed out. ‘So I kinda have to. For Ellis.’

Gren grinned at him. ‘Of course. That’s good to hear. Well, have fun at your appointments!’

Soren rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah. You’ll uh… text me, right?’

The redhead nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. ‘Yep. Sure I can do that.’

Soren turned his head to face the front of the car as Marcos shut the doors behind him.

As the car pulled out of the paddock where the big top was set up, he wanted nothing more than to bury his face in his hands like a fifteen-year-old girl.

‘How much of that did you hear?’ he mumbled, not making eye contact with Marcos.

‘Dude I was loading you into the car and you were talking right next to me. I heard it all and so did Aaravos.’

Shit.

‘Any point trying to convince you that there’s nothing there?’

‘About as much point as trying to convince me that you could tap dance.’

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

When Claudia arrived home, Marcos had gotten Soren bathed and changed and set up with a drink in the living room watching a dramatic soap opera.

‘Watching’ was probably the wrong word.

Soren was _staring_ at the screen, where the dramatic soap was playing, but his mind was far, far away, in a silver and blue big top.

Marcos gave Claudia a rundown of what had happened that day in his friendly chipper tone, and Soren heard him make Claudia promise not to tell Viren about their trip to the circus. His sister leaned against the doorframe and gave him a tired smile.

‘Good day?’ she asked, arms wrapped around her middle.

He just nodded.

‘You wanna stay up or go to bed?’

‘Bed please,’ Soren said quietly, exhaustion washing over him like the tide.

With help from Marcos, Claudia was able to get Soren into his bed and tucked in for the night. He left his phone on its stand just in case a message came through (not that he wasn’t waiting on one, or anything) and tried to get as comfortable as possible.

With painkillers coursing through his system, and the events of the day hanging from his body like weights, Soren was asleep in minutes.

That night he dreamed.

Soren knew it was a dream for a number of reasons. The first one was that he was in a place he hadn’t been to since he was a kid – the Del Bar river. Its water was cool, and the river bottom was stones and pebbles, and sometimes there were frogs to be discovered, but only when he was quiet and patient, which was never.

They had lived near the river when their mum was still around, and she had encouraged him to explore and play. He hadn’t been there in years, but it was beautiful, and quiet, a place that he didn’t have to share with anyone.

He was sitting on the grass in a pair of shorts, the individual blades tickling the underside of his legs, and the warmth of the sun toasting his skin. It felt so good, he couldn’t help but laugh as he wiggled his toes.

‘Soren!’

He twisted his torso to see Gren waving at him, a basket under one arm and a bottle of wine in his free hand.

‘Have you been in the water yet? Is it cold?’ Gren asked, setting the basket down and leaning over to kiss Soren’s cheek.

‘Uh, not yet,’ Soren replied, tucking his knees close to his chest. ‘I was enjoying the sun.’

Gren simply smiled at him. He was in shorts as well, shirtless. When he wasn’t covered in blue paint the redhead was very pleasing to look at. He had a wide chest and strong shoulders and so many freckles it was like the sky itself had tried to mimic the pattern in the stars.

‘How many freckles do you have?’ he asked, reaching out to touch Gren’s shoulder. His skin was warm, but gooseflesh rose immediately in response to Soren’s gentle fingertips.

‘Precisely eight,’ Gren replied with a wink.

Soren laughed, and ran a hand through his hair. ‘I think it’s a few more than that.’

Gren darted forward and grabbed the basket. ‘I got your favourite,’ he promised, lifting the lid.

Soren crawled forward on his hands and knees, eager to see inside.

‘It’s…. glow toad!’

A bright flash blinded him, and he fell back on his elbows, and then lay on his back. The grass tickled his neck and his ears.

‘Soren, are you okay?’ came Gren’s concerned voice. ‘Soren? _Babe?_ ’

Soren opened his eyes, and he was staring at his ceiling.

It was dark.

His cheeks were wet; it wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken crying, but it would be the first time since the accident that any of his dreams allowed him to walk again. To touch again, move again, _feel_ again.

He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, then tried counting backwards from ten… then twenty… then one hundred.

The pillow had become weirdly bunched under his head, and he wiggled as much as he could to straighten it out, then fell back with a huff.

A foreign tingling sensation had come over his lower half, travelling down his legs, similar to pins and needles. He hadn’t experienced it before, but doctors had assured him that there was a chance he would still be able to feel some things.

Aside from being back to his old self, or having someone (okay fine, having Gren, whatever) there to hold him, the pins and needles were the most welcome feeling he could imagine.

Some feeling was better than no feeling.

It gave him hope that one day, if Gren were to offer his hand, then Soren might be able to take it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!   
> Come join me on tumblr @aaravosed or join the Sorgren discord server!  
> Remember to leave a little comment and let me know what you think!


	4. ACT IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** IMPORTANT **  
> The tags have been updated; please read carefully and ensure you are comfortable before proceeding to read this chapter!  
> I know I said it would be really fluffy but it's kinda angsty and I'm only a little sorry. But there's a bit of backstory too which is always nice, so I've decided I'm forgiven.   
> Thank you as always to Su for her beta help. Enjoy the chapter!

ACT IV

✪  ✪  ✪

_~~And you see the impossible is coming true~~ _

✪  ✪  ✪

 

The office was large and open and white; a small desk was stuffed in the corner, backed by a bookcase stuffed with rows upon rows of textbooks.  Against another wall was a bed similar to the one he had at home, that moved up and down to make things easier, and pale-yellow curtains were bunched up by the head in case privacy was required. The wall opposite the desk was large and white, the monotony only broken by a number of framed degrees and a large detailed poster of a brain and nervous system.

He hated it.

The scent of disinfectant made him nauseous, and the sickly-sweet pity smiles of doctors and nurses and other patients in the hospital just made him bitter. At least _his_ doctor didn’t look at him out of pity. In fact, he often told him how much _worse_ it could be, and how he should be grateful.

Soren was grateful. He could have died. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to also be bitter.

The old man stared at him over round glasses that were slipping off the end of his nose; probably because of all the sweat on his face. The room wasn’t warm. The neurologist was just a really weird sweaty man with salt and pepper curls and a persistent tickle in his throat that he insisted on clearing every third or fourth word.

Even Claudia couldn’t stand him, and she liked everyone.

‘How are you feeling, Soren?’ the doctor asked, reading the file in front of him. Soren expected that he didn’t really want an answer.

‘Don’t feel much of anything these days,’ Soren deadpanned, and his dad rolled his eyes from the seat beside him.

The neurologist just stared at him over his glasses, like he was trying to work out if there was a joke there. He decided to just ignore it.

‘Has he been attending the recommended therapies? He said, turning to Viren.

‘I’m literally right here,’ Soren grumbled.

‘He has,’ Viren answered anyway. ‘I think it’s starting to frustrate him.’

Soren scowled, irritation rising. It was his legs that were paralysed, not his fucking tongue. ‘I can answer for myself, you know,’ he pointed out.

‘Good,’ the neurologist replied. ‘Now, as we discussed I’m flying out of the country to attend a clinic and deliver some speeches. I have organised another specialist to take on your case. She’s outside waiting to meet the two of you, is that okay?’

Soren turned his face dramatically towards his father, expecting that he’d answer for the both of them.

‘That will be fine,’ Viren replied, ignoring his son’s dramatics.

‘Good. Wait here please.’

‘Damn,’ Soren mumbled. ‘I was planning my escape but he’s blocking the _only_ exit, whatever shall I do?’

Viren took that moment to lean closer to the wheelchair. ‘You can start by cutting the attitude.’

Soren poked out his tongue.

‘Viren, this is professor Opeli. She’s new to the hospital and she’s taking over some of my easier cases while I’m gone.’

Professor Opeli at least seemed like the kind of person who also hated the sweaty old doctor.

Once she’d shuffled him out of the room and gotten comfortable at the office desk, she leaned across the table to shake Viren’s hand.

‘You can just call me Opeli,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’m here to make sure we do everything to make your life easier, Soren.’

Soren nodded in response and she shrugged off her coat.

‘Beautiful, now, if it’s okay with you I’d like to chat with you alone and get to know you a bit. Viren, would you mind?’

If he was irritated by the obvious dismissal, Viren didn’t say anything. He merely nodded and left the room without a word, no doubt finding a seat in the waiting room.

‘That’s better isn’t it?’ Opeli said, leaning back in her chair. ‘So, tell me what happened, and what you’ve been doing for treatment, and anything else you can think of that’s relevant.’

‘Isn’t it in your file?’ Soren countered, raising an eyebrow.

‘It is,’ she replied, tapping the manilla folder on her desk. ‘But that’s medical mumbo jumbo. That tells me that you were in a car accident. It tells me that you have an incomplete spinal cord injury with disruption in your C6 and C7 level, and that you have no motor function below your neck. It tells me what Sir-sweats-a-lot thinks your prognosis is.’

She took a moment to chuck the file into a document holder full of other files.

‘It’s all jargon. It doesn’t tell me how you’re coping, or if anything has changed, or even how much _you_ understand about your condition. That’s what I’d like to know.’

And so Soren told her.

He explained the accident, how much of it he could remember, and how scared he’d been. She asked about his treatments, his therapies, had he seen any change in his function or senses.

‘I got pins and needles the other night,’ he said, his voice sounding pitifully hopeful. ‘That’s good, right?’

‘It’s common, I’m afraid,’ Opeli said, making a note on her page. ‘I’m going to be honest with you Soren.’

‘I’m not getting any better, am I?’ he asked, his heart sinking.

‘I didn’t say that,’ she replied. ‘I’m saying that you probably won’t walk again. But you might regain some of your function in your hands and arms. I can’t _promise_ anything, because it’s going to be really rough for you. But I can promise that I’ll help you to the best of my ability.’

‘I’ll work hard,’ Soren promised, nodding to affirm it for himself. ‘I’ll do anything.’

Opeli’s face softened, and she gave him a sad smile. ‘Sometimes it’s not about how hard you work. Sometimes our bodies just… don’t heal. I need you to be prepared for that outcome. But I want you to be hopeful as well. Your life may be difficult, but it’s far from over.’

Soren managed a weak smile. If he could just… keep Opeli as his main doctor and get rid of the other guy, he might have a chance. She wanted to help him heal, instead of just help him cope.

‘How’s your mental health doing?’ the blonde doctor asked out of the blue. ‘There’s nothing in here about your mental health care plan.’

‘Uhh… I don’t think I have one,’ Soren said with a frown.

Opeli pinched her lips together in distaste and started clicking through his file on her computer. ‘They didn’t even mention it to you?’ she asked.

‘Nope.’

‘Ridiculous. As a young adult who’s had such a life-altering, traumatic experience, you absolutely should be seeing a mental health professional. I’ll set that up today and have it out to your email address in the next 48 hours.’

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

With Opeli leading his treatment plans now, Soren had a schedule. Physiotherapy, circus, text Gren, hydrotherapy, circus, call Gren, psychology appointments, circus, think about Gren.

‘You have more of a social life than I do!’ Claudia told him over dinner one night, and Soren levelled her with a look that could stop a dragon in its tracks.

The time he spent at the circus was apparently doing wonders for his mental health, or so his psychologist said. He was a burly man with a bushy blonde beard and a hearty belly laugh, rough around the edges and nothing like what Soren was expecting when he pictured a psychologist in his mind.

‘How do you think it’s going to affect you when it comes time for the circus to leave?’ he’d asked, leaving Soren with that gaping thought in his mind.

How would it affect him?

Apparently, he’d gotten so lost in this thought that he didn’t noticed Gren and Corvus and Lujanne doing a rubbish attempt at the can-can in front of him in the ring.

‘Soren… Soren… yoohoo, earth to Soren!’

He snapped back to the present to see Gren in front of him, leaning on the barrier with a concerned look on his face.

‘Are you okay? Do I need to call someone?’ he asked.

Soren offered him a bright smile, because he didn’t like to see Gren so concerned for him. “Of course not,’ he replied. ‘I just zoned out for a sec.’

‘You didn’t even see us dancing,’ Gren continued, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at Corvus.

If anything was a dead giveaway that Soren was catching feelings, it was the immediate sense of loss he felt, because before his accident Soren was a great dancer.

Okay maybe not great, but he was definitely enthusiastic.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, tipping his head to the side. ‘I think I’m just a bit out of it today.’

Gren stepped over the barrier and rested his butt on it, arms crossed over his chest. ‘You’re not getting bored of us, are you?’

‘No!’ Soren said quickly. ‘I love being here, you know that.’

The redhead nodded. ‘You know you don’t have to come if you’re not feeling up to it.’

‘I want to be here. It’s the most normal thing I do,’ Soren countered, lifting his chin.

Gren’s expression was unreadable, his eyes boring into Soren’s with an intensity he hadn’t experienced before. After a few seconds it faltered, and Gren looked away.

‘We love having you here, all of us,’ he said softly.

‘Are you two finished gossiping or do I need to separate you?’ asked Aaravos as he swept into the tent in a flurry of stars.

‘We’ve literally only just stopped working,’ Gren pointed out.

Aaravos didn’t look convinced. ‘I’m just here to let you know that I’ve scheduled three days of downtime next Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, so we won’t be having shows or regular rehearsals, Soren.’

‘Downtime?’ Soren repeated.

‘It gives us a few days to explore the town without having to worry about getting back here on time for a show,’ Gren said, excitement in his voice.

Three days without any circus visits. It would be a good taster for what it’d be like when Cirque du Xadia packed up and left town. A detox, if you will.

Before anything else could be said, Callum ducked into the big top closely followed by Rayla. Soren had noticed the two getting chummy, to the point where Callum often tagged along to Soren’s visits.

‘Claudia’s here to pick us up,’ he announced, breathless from the run.

‘Do you want me to wheel you out?’ Gren jumped in, standing up properly. ‘So Claudia doesn’t have to come all the way in?’

Soren nodded his consent and called out goodbyes to the nearby troupe members before the redhead started pushing his chair.

‘Hey Callum, run ahead and tell Claudia we’re on our way, yeah?’ Gren said as they went under the big ‘welcome’ arch near the ticket box.

Callum and Rayla took off in a race to see who could reach the van first. Claudia was waiting for them, sitting in the already-open back of the van, a coffee cup in her hand.

Soren felt a spike of unease in his throat as Gren slowed him down a little; not that he didn’t trust Gren, because he did. It was more than he didn’t know why they were slowing down, and his bodily autonomy usually took a backseat to the will of whoever was pushing him around.

‘Gren?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You okay?’ Soren asked, turning his head as far as he could, and Gren gave him a wonky smile.

‘Yeah, of course,’ he said, but there was something hesitant about him. ‘I uh… I just wanted to ask you something.’

The wheelchair stopped and Gren stepped around it so he was facing Soren.

‘So you heard what Aaravos was saying inside… about the downtime…’ he started, looking down at his feet, then at the big top, and pretty much everywhere except Soren.

‘Yeah…’ Soren said slowly, a frown marring his features. ‘If you’re worried about me bothering you on your time off, don’t stress, I’m gonna stay at home-‘

‘No,’ Gren said with a laugh. ‘That’s kinda the opposite of what I want.’

Surely the blood rushing in Soren’s ears meant that he had misheard.

‘I mean, what I’m saying, I guess… can I take you out for coffee in the downtime?’ Gren asked, finally meeting Soren’s gaze. He looked hopeful.

‘Like…’ He swallowed. ‘A date?’

‘If you want,’ Gren said, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. ‘If you don’t want to that’s okay too. Just friends having coffee. That’s cool.’

Soren just looked at him. There was nothing about Gren that was ordinary. Underneath his jeans and hoodie, he was toned like a marble statue, every muscle perfectly designed to appeal to others. His eyes were bright and hopeful and honest, and Soren could picture himself being lost in them for hours.

His nose was spattered with more freckles than anyone could count, ever. But it was more than that. Gren was funny; his jokes were so bad, but Soren couldn’t help but laugh at them. He was kind, and he was open. He had ambition, and wanted to help people.

Most importantly, Gren saw him as a person, not an entity attached to a chair.

‘…Soren? You can say no, you know?’ Gren said with his wonky smile. ‘Don’t feel like you have to.’

‘No,’ Soren said with a shake of his head. ‘No, that would be great. I’d like to go out for coffee.’

Even the brightest star paled in comparison to the beaming smile that lit up Gren’s face.

‘Oh! That’s awesome. I’ll um, probably text you then?’ he said, his voice rising in pitch. ‘I don’t really know any coffee places around here and you probably know which ones are accessible as well so… yeah. Great. I’m happy, thanks.’

Oh, he was cute when he babbled.

‘Claudia is staring,’ Soren pointed out, peering around Gren at his sister and the others.

‘Oh shit, yeah, my bad,’ Gren replied, jumping to action. He wheeled Soren over to the van and stayed while he got loaded up. As he bounced from foot to foot, arms crossed over his chest like he was trying to contain his excitement, Soren felt a bloom of affection in his chest.

It wasn’t until after they’d driven out of the big top and dropped Callum home that Soren brought up the topic with his sister.

‘Gren asked me out. On a date. A coffee date.’

Claudia whipped around so fast the van started to veer slightly. ‘Really?’

‘Yeah, sometime in the next few days,’ he said, avoiding eye contact.

His sister didn’t say anything else as they travelled home, which gave Soren plenty of time to imagine what it would be like to go on a date – an _actual_ date.

If he imagined the perfect date, it would involve flirting and joking around and getting to know each other. But then he was reminded immediately that he was in his stupid chair, and people would look at him, and Gren would have to feed him in public.

Sandwiches in the circus lunch area was one thing, but in a café? Full of people? Would Gren be embarrassed? Whatever chance they had might be over before it even began. Soren promised himself that he wouldn’t order any food, just to be on the safe side.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

Back in his room, the worrying got worse.

What if Gren decided afterwards that Soren was too much for him? How could they overcome this hurdle? Could you love someone who could never hold you back?

A knock at his door made him jump.

‘Come in,’ he called, and the door swung open.

Viren stepped in, immediately crossing the room with deliberate strides to yank open the curtains.

‘Claudia tells me that one of your circus people has asked to meet you in the town,’ he said, staring out the window.

Naturally Claudia would tell their dad. She couldn’t help it.

‘Yes,’ Soren said stiffly, acknowledging the distaste in his father’s voice. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘You have a very strict recovery schedule. I don’t think you should let yourself get distracted,’ Viren said, spinning on his heel to face his son.

‘If my life is going to be an endless parade of therapies and treatments, don’t you think it’s good that I get to do something normal?’ Soren countered, irritated. ‘I’m 21, dad, I can’t just give up now.’

‘If you start fooling around with circus folk, then you may as well,’ Viren growled. ‘You need to focus on getting better so that you can get on with your life!’

‘I’m not getting better!’ Soren shouted. ‘I’m stuck like this, for good. Is it so bad that I just want to enjoy something when there’s a chance for it?’

Viren’s hands balled into fists by his side, and his eyes flashed dangerously. ‘He will leave,’ his father snarled. ‘He’ll lead you on and then he will leave and you’ll never see him again.’

‘I don’t care,’ Soren snapped, and it stunned him how much he meant it.

He didn’t care.

He didn’t care if his time with Gren was short, or that he would leave in a few weeks. It would be worth it.

‘I don’t care,’ he repeated, stronger. ‘I’m 21. My life is gonna suck, but it’s far from over and I’m going to enjoy it as much as I can.’

Viren curled his lip. ‘You’re going to wind up with a broken heart, and when that happens, remember that I warned you.’

‘Okay dad, that’s enough,’ Claudia interrupted from the doorway.

Soren hadn’t even realised she was listening.  

Viren stormed out of the bedroom, shoving past Claudia a little rougher than usual.

‘Piss off,’ Soren grumbled at his father’s back, way too chicken to say it to his face.

‘He’s got a point, Sor,’ Claudia said quietly, moving to his bed and straightening the covers. ‘I don’t want to see you get your hopes up and just end up all broken again.’

‘You can’t shield me from everything,’ Soren grumbled. ‘He wouldn’t give a shit if my legs were fine.’

Claudia chewed her lip; she couldn’t deny that he was right, even if it worked against her argument.

‘He just wants to protect you. So do I.’

‘Yes, because right now I’m _very_ fragile,’ the blonde spat. There wasn’t a whole lot left of him to break.

‘You’re in a really shitty situation and I feel like you might be reading into things too much because you’re worried, and I don’t want you getting hurt,’ Claudia blurted, grabbing the armrests of Soren’s chair.

‘You think that Gren asked me to go out for coffee as friends?’ Soren clarified, quirking an eyebrow.

Technically he had said that… but Claudia didn’t need to know that information.

‘No, I’m sure he didn’t, but he’s gonna leave, Sor-Sor, and he’s gonna have his circus friends and his performances to distract him and what are you gonna have? Therapy?’ she said, dropping to her knees in front of the chair. ‘Please just be smart about this.’

‘Please,’ Soren said softly. He leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling, trying hard not to cry. ‘Just leave me alone.’

‘I’m sorry,’ his sister said, getting to her feet. ‘You just… tell me when the date is, and I’ll take you there. And I’ll make myself scarce but stay close in case you need me. Okay?’

Soren ignored her, and she left the room with a sigh, pulling the door shut behind her.

So what if Gren was leaving? No one said anything about wanting to _marry_ the guy. Just have coffee, chat, and when Cirque du Xadia packed up and left town, they’d have had a great few weeks as unlikely friends.

Who cared if he never heard from him again? Who cared if Soren was a little mopey afterwards? He would have more than _therapy_ to distract him, surely.

Soren made a mental note to himself; discuss that with one of the many people treating him. Surely _someone_ would be able to give him an idea of what he could and couldn’t do.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

‘ _I’m really sorry if I just sprang that on you today,_ ’ Gren said down the phone, talking around a mouthful of fruit.

Soren could just picture him, and he couldn’t fight a smile.

‘No, it’s okay. It was just unexpected,’ he replied truthfully.

He was flat on his bed with blankets pulled up to his armpits. Claudia had put his phone in the stretchy-armed holder that fixed to his bedframe. He was getting better at working the screen with his nose, even if it made his neck ache and his eyes hurt.

‘ _Are you still okay to come out?’_

‘Yes, yeah,’ Soren said, maybe a little too quickly. ‘Although I’m kinda wondering um… are you, I mean… are you okay… being out with me, like this?’

‘ _What do you mean?_ ’

‘In my chair.’

‘ _Of course? You’re just a guy in a chair, Soren. The chair doesn’t change who you are as a person._ ’

Soren would contest that, but maybe not out loud. He hadn’t exactly been a pillar of the community before his accident. A smarmy jock, star of the baseball team, probably a little arrogant. But that had been stripped away; what was left?

‘ _You there?_ ’

‘Yeah.’

‘ _Don’t read into it too much, yeah?_ ’ Gren said, and Soren could tell from the squeaking of the springs that the redhead had probably laid back on the little bed in his trailer. ‘ _I asked you to meet me so that I could get to know you. In a place where I wasn’t all sweaty from practicing, or painted for performing. I just wanted to hang out as Gren, not as a Xadian Strongman, or whatever it is Aaravos calls us these days._ ’

‘I understand that completely,’ Soren replied.

The difference in their conversations when they were separated by a screen was almost worrying for Soren. On the phone they could talk about anything, but in person they became… well almost shy. The blonde had never thought himself a shy person, but he was definitely more guarded these days.

‘ _Can I say something really dumb and cheesy?_ ’

Soren swallowed. ‘Sure.’

‘ _I understand if you just wanna have a friends date, but I’m kinda really hoping it’s a… uh… more-than-friends date?_ ’

This was it.

The day Soren died. Because his heart was _clearly_ beating way too fast and loud for it to be safe. He would miss out on his more-than-friends date because the very idea of it caused him to self-combust.

‘Um,’ he managed, feeling heat creep up his neck. ‘It can be that. A more-than-friends date. I’m okay with that.’

‘ _Really?_ ’

‘Yeah.’

‘ _Cool_.’

‘Yeah.’

‘ _It’s like 2am. Corvus is gonna kill me._ ’

Soren laughed. ‘Aren’t you meant to be taking a break? Downtime and all?’

Gren chuckled, but halfway through it turned into a yawn. ‘ _Cor isn’t the kinda guy to take advantage of the downtime. He just… practices all the time._ ’

‘Well I wouldn’t want to keep you from Corvus’ intense practice sessions,’ Soren said, trying to stifle a reaction yawn. He wasn’t _tired_. Gren had just yawned first.

‘ _I’d much rather talk to you all night and sleep through the practices,_ ’ Gren said quietly.

Soren listened to him shuffle around on the bed, most likely tugging blankets up higher.

‘We need to sleep,’ he said eventually.

‘ _Yeah probably._ ’

‘So I’ll see you in a few days?’

‘ _Sounds good. I’ll meet you there_.’

‘I’ll be the handsome one in the massive fuck-off wheelchair.’

Gren snorted. ‘ _Go to sleep Soren._ ’

Soren closed his eyes and for a second it felt like he could snuggle into his blankets and get comfortable. ‘Goodnight Gren.’

‘ _Goodnight, sleep well!_ ’

The call ended, and the white light of his screen nearly blinded him.

2:14am.

Worth it.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

‘Claudia, I know we’ve had our differences in the past,’ Soren said, pressing his head into the headrest as if it would stop the wheelchair in its tracks. ‘But right now I need you to wheel me to the nearest airport and put me on a random flight so I can be anywhere but here.’

‘Dude, you’re the one who fought both me and dad to be here, so you’re going into the stupid café,’ Claudia said with a roll of her eyes. ‘Why are you freaking out?’

‘Because I’m a jerk in a wheelchair and no one will ever love me,’ Soren snapped, scowling at her.

Claudia smacked him lightly in the head. ‘Quit the excuses and go flirt your little butt off. It’s probably the one thing you’re good at.’

It didn’t feel like the one thing he was good at. It felt like an impossible task, but she was already wheeling him through the doors so it’s not like he had a choice.

Gren was waiting at one of the tables in a corner, with enough room for Soren to get through, but it was tucked away enough that he wouldn’t draw too much attention. It was exactly the spot he’d have picked for himself as well.

‘Is here okay?’ Gren asked, jumping to his feet and dragging the table sideways a little.

‘Perfect,’ Claudia said with a smile. ‘I’ll leave you in Gren’s capable hands. I’ll be down the road at the bookshop café if you need me for anything, okay?’

‘Thanks Claudia,’ Soren said, his voice definitely not catching even a little bit.

They waited for her to leave the café, and then they were alone. Well, as alone as you could be with a few old ladies trying very hard not to stare, or the little boy whispering loudly to his mother about why he needed to be in the wheelchair in the first place.

‘What uh, what do you want to drink?’ Gren asked, pulling his wallet from his back pocket.

‘Oh, no I’m fine, I’ve got water,’ Soren pointed out, knowing that Claudia had packed his water bottle.

Gren’s face faltered a little. ‘Doesn’t have to be hot, I can get you a milkshake or something? Juice? Soft drink?’

Oh, those eyes. Those sweet blue eyes; to decline a drink would break his heart. Stupid, pretty Gren and his stupid puppy face.

‘A milkshake sounds great,’ he said with a smile.

‘What flavour is your favourite?’ Gren asked, getting to his feet.

‘Guess. Surprise me,’ Soren smirked.

Gren’s eyes sparkled at the challenge.

While the redhead was ordering for them both, Soren took a few moments to compose himself. It’ll be fine, he thought. What could go wrong.

‘Done,’ Gren said, falling back into his chair with a stupid grin on his handsome freckly face. ‘I hope you like strawberry, but I also got chocolate just in case you didn’t.’

Soren snorted. ‘You got two just to cover your ass?’

‘Technically I got chocolate because it’s my favourite, but I’ll drink strawberry if you hate it that much,’ Gren said, resting his elbows on the table.

He didn’t look like he belonged to the circus. He was just a normal guy, in a grey t-shirt and jeans, a shiny watch on one wrist and a pair of sunglasses on his head. An attractive guy on a date with a guy in a wheelchair.

Soren gave him a smile. ‘Strawberry’s my favourite, good guess.’

Almost on cue the drinks arrived, and Gren immediately picked up Soren’s drink and offered it to him. The liquid was cool and sweet and filled with lumps of creamy ice cream. He let go of the straw with a satisfied ‘ahh’ and leaned back against his headrest.

‘Delicious,’ he hummed happily.

Gren slurped at his own shake with the other hand, ready to jump to Soren’s aid at even the smallest sign that he wanted more.

‘So,’ the redhead began, moving his straw up and down through the lid, making that weird screechy sound. ‘On the phone you said you were okay with this being a date-date. Is that… still true?’

Soren tipped his head to the side. ‘I suppose I’m okay with that,’ he said.

‘G-good.’ Gren sipped at his shake. ‘I’m glad. Fair warning though, it’s been a while since I’ve been on a date so I’m sorry if I’m a bit… awkward.’

Soren snorted. ‘Gren you’re literally feeding me milkshake. I understand awkwardness better than anyone.’

‘Oh yeah, do you want more?’

‘Yes please.’

They went through the menu together, working out what would be the easiest thing for Gren to feed Soren, and ordered soon after.

‘What do people even talk about on dates these days?’ Gren asked, polishing off the end of his shake.

‘Themselves? I dunno,’ Soren replied. ‘How’d you wind up with the circus?’

Gren’s face lit up. ‘I was a gymnast when I was in school, and I was really good at it. I did a short program that my mentor recommended that was through a circus school and I was totally hooked. I worked two jobs to pay for tuition throughout high school,’ he said, moving his hands around to emphasise his words.

Soren could listen to him talk all day.

‘And then I told my dads I was gonna apply for a real university but I auditioned for the national circus school instead, I got in, and they trained me in risley, tumbling, trampolining… all that jazz.’

‘What about the strongman act?’ Soren pressed.

Gren waved a hand. ‘Nah, I didn’t learn that til I joined Cirque du Xadia. Janai said I needed to branch out a little.’

‘Thank you Janai,’ Soren said, looking up at the ceiling.

The freckled man chuckled and scratched the back of his neck. ‘Yeah. Corvus is a great partner. We’ve been together for like three years now.’

‘As… circus partners, yes?’ Soren knew that he was just mis-hearing things, but he felt like he needed to clarify. Just in case.

‘Yes, Soren,’ Gren teased. ‘Just circus partners.’

And so the date continued.

Gren gave him a total overview of what it was like to study circus at a national level; told him about how he found Cirque du Xadia; glanced briefly over having Rayla as his partner, the annoying little spitfire that she was.

They discussed everything – Gren was eager to answer Soren’s questions, and gave as much detail as he could possibly give, and Soren lapped it up like a kitten with cream. In return, Soren told Gren about his childhood, his family, his studies. His companion was very polite and didn’t ask a single question about the wheelchair, more about what Soren liked to watch, or what sports he followed.

It was perfect.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

To Soren it felt like they had known each other for years. Gren found the perfect balance between feeding Soren bites of his lunch and being able to eat as well. He refilled their drinks when they ran out and listened attentively as he spoke.

‘See, now, we were having a great date up until you said that,’ Soren said with an overdramatic wince. ‘I can’t be with someone who’s Team Tony.’

‘It made sense for them! They were smashing up cities and killing people!’ Gren cried, earning a few annoyed looks from the other patrons. ‘Cap has never played by the rules and he’s just shitty that he has to start now in his old age.’

‘Okay well let’s agree to disagree.’ The blonde gestured for a drink and Gren obliged without a word.

‘But we can both agree that Thor is the best looking, right?’

‘It’s my spine that’s broken, not my eyes,’ Soren countered, earning a hearty laugh from Gren. ‘You know… I have to say I’m impressed. We’ve been here for like two hours and you haven’t asked once.’

‘About what happened?’ Gren clarified, resting his chin on his hand. ‘I thought about it, but I didn’t want to be rude. You probably have people asking you all the time.’

‘I do,’ Soren nodded. ‘But no one has treated me to lunch first so… if you wanna know I don’t mind talking about it.’

Gren gave him the softest smile he’d ever seen, and his insides twisted a little.

‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘Car accident,’ Soren replied, resting his head against the headrest. ‘The other driver had a heart attack at the wheel and lost control of the car. He slammed into me and turned my car into a crushed-up coke can. I saw the pictures, it’s incredible I’m even alive.’

Gren’s eyebrows met together in a little frown; not out of anger or confusion, but it came dangerously close to pity. For the first time since he’d been wheeled out of the van, Soren felt a prickle of shame.

‘It was no one’s fault. The other driver he… he died. They couldn’t revive him. His daughter came to see me when I was in the hospital, and she was just a mess. Claudia was a mess, my dad was… more put together than anyone but I think it shook him.’

Even though he kept his voice low, the other patrons were obviously listening in on their conversation, because the only sound other than Soren’s voice was the quiet clinking of cutlery on plates.

‘I was going to pick up Clauds from a talk or some nerdy thing, I don’t really remember. She took it pretty hard,’ Soren said with a sigh. ‘But! It could be worse! I could be dead! I could have severe damage to my brain, and I don’t, so.’

Gren pulled a face that Soren couldn’t read very well, the corner of his lip quirked up in a half smile.

‘Is there any kind of treatment or a chance for any kind of recovery?’ he asked gently, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

‘There’s always a chance of improvement with an incomplete injury,’ Soren replied, just parroting Opeli’s words from the other day. ‘But they can’t promise anything.’

Soren watched as Gren deliberately took his hand, and his heart sank. There was nothing more in the world he wanted more than to squeeze it, bring Gren’s knuckles to his lips for a kiss. He settled for a sad smile.

‘Well, either way… I’m very glad that Claudia wheeled you into my circus,’ Gren said, leaning back in his chair without letting go of Soren’s hand.

When Claudia finally came to collect him, citing that she could only read for so long and 3 ½ hours was plenty of time, Soren was sure they were both blushing, bumbling messes.

Gren manoeuvred Soren through the tables and outside the café, chatting cheerfully with Claudia. Soren himself had started feeling pain in his lower back about 45 minutes ago and was honestly desperate to be out of his chair. He grit his teeth as they moved over the uneven sidewalk towards the van, and waited patiently as he was loaded into the back.

‘I’ll give you two a moment,’ Claudia whispered, disappearing from Soren’s field of vision.

The van rocked as Gren climbed into the back and knelt beside the chair.

‘I uh, hope you had a good time,’ he said.

‘I did, honestly. I think I just overdid it a little,’ Soren replied, resting his head back. ‘I’m going to sleep very well tonight.’

Gren had that look on his face that he got when he was trying to decide something. Whatever decision won out, he smiled warmly and patted Soren’s hand.

‘I’ll see you at the tent in a few days, yeah?’ he asked.

‘Probably. Make sure you get to enjoy some of your downtime without Corvus taking it all up for practice,’ Soren said with a lazy smile.

‘I’ll text you,’ Gren promised, stepping out of the van, and Soren closed his eyes.

‘I look forward to it.’

The van doors slammed shut and he was alone.

Relief crashed over him as he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. It had been a good date. The best date.

He couldn’t have asked for anything better.

Claudia gave him a sly look as she slid into the driver’s seat but didn’t say anything. It felt like he was 6 again and was being picked up from his first sleepover with boys _and_ girls.

It wasn’t until they were parked in the driveway that she spoke.

‘Did you at least have fun?’

Soren didn’t try to fight a smile. ‘Yeah.’

Claudia beamed at him.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

Claudia had tucked Soren into bed and given him the last of his meds for the day, but his mind was racing. How could it not be? He’d gone on a date!

A real, more-than-friends date, with a really cute guy who apparently liked him enough to want to see him again.

He’d already texted Gren goodnight – to which the redhead replied almost instantly – and turned his phone off for the evening. The only sound he could hear was his father’s footsteps; not unusual considering his study shared a wall with Soren’s room.

‘Is he asleep?’

‘I think so. He had a big day.’

‘How did he go?’

‘I think he had a good time.’

Soren frowned and turned his head to be able to hear better. His dad and Claudia? They were talking about him.

‘We can’t let this continue,’ came Viren’s quiet voice, only just audible through the wall.

Soren never used to be able to hear the conversations in the study from his room, but then again his bed never used to be against this wall. When he had his accident, the room had been rearranged.

‘He was really happy when he came out of there, I think it could be good for him,’ Claudia whispered. ‘How many other people would do what Gren did, do you think?’

Soren frowned. _Ouch, Clauds._

‘Claudia, I don’t know how else to get through to him. The circus folk will leave him alone and heartbroken, and then he’s going to spiral. His recovery is as much about his mental state as it is about his physical effort,’ Viren hissed.

‘I think you’re wrong, I think Gren is good for him.’

‘Gren is probably looking for someone to take advantage of. Circus people are charlatans, they blitz through and take what they want and then disappear again. Soren is in a wheelchair, and he’ll most likely be there for the rest of his life.’

Gren had said the chair didn’t change who he was as a person. Soren repeated this mantra in his head over and over to drown out what his family was saying in the next room, but it wasn’t like he could just _stop hearing_.

‘He’s not going to live a normal life. It’s going to be difficult for Soren to find someone to love him, that won’t mind that he needs bathing and moving and feeding, and special round-the-clock care. It’s a huge commitment. That doesn’t take having a family into account.’

‘I think you’re thinking too much into this,’ Claudia countered. ‘He’s in a wheelchair, so what? There are so many options, medical breakthroughs are happening every day! Hearing you talk like this would be more damaging to him than losing someone he has a crush on!’

‘Enough,’ Viren snapped. ‘Keep your voice down, I don’t want you waking him.’

The racing of Soren’s heart in his chest signalled the beginnings of a panic attack, and he was alone in the dark with nothing but his thoughts.

His dad, his own father, thought he was a burden. Someone who would never find love. If anything, Viren at least made a valid point; who would want to be with someone so needy? What could Soren offer to a relationship to make up for all the shit he’d be putting his partner through?

His chest rose and fell with the increasing shallowness of his breath, and he tipped his head back to allow more air.

Fuck, if he died here it would make everyone’s lives so much easier.

His breath caught in his throat and he let out a soft whine. In the three months since his accident, Soren had never had a thought like that. Ever.

He didn’t mean it.

‘Claudia,’ he choked out. ‘Claudia!?’

The door flew open and she was by his bedside in an instant, followed by their father.

‘What happened?’ she asked, already reaching behind his neck to prop him up. Against his burning skin, her hands were like ice.

‘Nightmare,’ he breathed. ‘I can’t…breathe…’

‘Okay, hospital, or panic attack?’ she demanded, holding him upright so that Viren could strip away the blankets and pull off his shirt.

‘Panic I think,’ Soren said. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry, you big dummy,’ she said affectionately, calming down now that she knew he wasn’t in any serious danger. ‘Just keep talking to me.’

‘Did you take all your medications today? The right doses?’ Viren asked.

‘Yes,’ Soren mumbled, his head falling forward to rest on his sister’s shoulder. ‘It’s… going down…’

His breathing had started to slow, and even though he was lightheaded he didn’t feel like he was in immediate danger of puking on anyone.

‘Do you have any plans tomorrow?’ Viren asked, but Soren could tell by his tone that he wouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere.

‘No,’ he huffed. ‘Stay here please. Marcos can come and make good use of our movie collection.’

Claudia and Viren stayed with him until his breathing settled, and they set him back down in his pillows. His phone had fallen from its stand in the struggle to move him and was jammed between the wall and the bed.

The sound of Claudia dragging her mattress into his room was the last thing he heard as he drifted off, and even though he tried to think of Gren, anything about him, to cheer him up, all he could think about was his father’s words.

_‘It’s going to be difficult for Soren to find someone to love him.’_

He didn’t dream at all that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise there'll be more fluff, I swear it.   
> Remember to join the Sorgren discord server, and come chat to me about this AU or one of my many other AUs on tumblr @aaravosed. You can find links to my other social medias there too!  
> Until next time xx


	5. ACT V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy it's a long one; thank you to everyone who read over the many, many drafts of this chapter.  
> Special shout-outs to Su and Porsche who helped me when I got really stuck.  
> **Please read the notes at the end of the chapter for important information!**

ACT V

✪  ✪  ✪

_~~Maybe the world could be ours~~ _

✪  ✪  ✪

 

It was a terrible thing, Soren decided, to have feelings for someone.

It had given him the worst panic attack in the three months since his accident. Granted, that could have been the blunt, hopeless way his dad spoke about him, but it could also be that deep down, Soren knew that his dad was a tiny bit right.

But Gren didn’t care, right?

If he did care, then he was very good at hiding it.

‘How’re you feeling, Sor-sor?’ Claudia asked softly, rolling over on the mattress and sitting up.

Her hair was falling out of its ponytail and she had a loose shirt slipping off one of her shoulders.

‘Shit,’ he replied honestly.

She hoisted herself off the mattress with a grunt and stretched her arms up high. The bed wobbled as she leaned on the guard rail and pushed his hair back from his forehead.

‘You look like it,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll get you your meds and maybe we can talk?’

A handful of pills and a slow lift to a sitting position later, Claudia had set herself up with a coffee and was looking at him expectantly.

Ugh, _talking_ about his _feelings_ was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

‘I’m fine,’ he started.

Claudia shook her head. ‘Wrong. Try again.’

‘I had a great date yesterday,’ Soren said, looking up at the ceiling.

‘And?’

‘And… we probably won’t have another one.’

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

Cirque du Xadia had been Gren’s home for nearly five years. The blue and silver towers were the roof under which he lived his life, the flags fluttering in the wind were the sounds that sent him to sleep every night.

Today though, for some reason, he felt like he wasn’t supposed to be there. Soren hadn’t texted him today, which Gren understood made him seem very needy, but the blonde was usually dying for someone to talk to, to alleviate his boredom.

Their date had been… wow. Something else.

Soren was an interesting guy, super cute and funny and a bit of a nerd under that hot-jock-type exterior. He liked baseball and movies and even though he was Team Cap, Gren was willing to overlook that one glaring flaw because otherwise he was just… right.

Somehow the whole troupe knew about his date, even though he’d been very careful not to say anything. The main suspect was Rayla. The little shit had been texting Callum almost as much as he and Soren had been texting, and if Claudia told Callum who told Rayla then _that_ explained why Corvus had been waiting in his trailer when he got home with a bottle of bubbly.

‘Gren, you’re not being paid to stand around and look pretty,’ Tinker reminded him from his spot in the stands.

‘I’m paying attention,’ the redhead fired back, and Tinker just raised an eyebrow.

‘If Rayla breaks her neck because you weren’t spotting, I’ll break _your_ neck,’ Runaan added.

Gren honestly believed that Rayla would be fine. With himself, Runaan and Janai spotting, as well as the worlds largest crash mat beneath the lyra hoop, she’d have to be the unluckiest kid in the world to fall and break her neck.

‘Better not say something like that in front of Soren,’ he pointed out.

‘Soren isn’t a performer,’ Runaan replied. ‘His neck isn’t his income.’

‘No, but he was aiming for pro-baseball.’ Gren crossed his arms over his chest. ‘What does that even mean, his neck isn’t his income? The guy literally can’t move anything below his neck… his whole life is up in the air.’

‘Aww, Gren’s sticking up for his _boyfriend,_ ’ Rayla teased, hanging upside down from the hoop. ‘Did you two _kiss_ yesterday? Get all smoochy in a café?’

Gren scowled at her. ‘So it _was_ Callum that told you,’ he confirmed.

The mischievous sparkle in her eyes confirmed everything.

‘Don’t change the subject,’ she said, heaving herself upright and draping her body across the bottom of the hoop, one dainty arm in one direction and a perfectly straight leg extended in the other. ‘Did you, or did you not, get your smooch on with the cute blonde yesterday?’

‘Of course not, we went out for coffee and to chat,’ he sniffed, annoyed.

Just because the troupe was his family didn’t mean they were entitled to the gory details. Not that there were any gory details, but still.

‘Seriously? You got that far and didn’t kiss the guy?’ Corvus called out. He was sitting beside Tinker while the tailor embroidered patterns onto his new cyr costume.

‘I’m not going to force myself on someone who literally can’t stop me,’ Gren said, frowning. ‘We just talked, it was fun.’

Swinging from the hoop, not even practicing any more, Rayla started making chicken noises.

‘Soren is _smitten_ with you,’ Janai said with a roll of her eyes. ‘Please hurry up and kiss him, so that you can get over this sulky phase and help out around here again.’

Gren grumbled to himself for the rest of Rayla’s practice, much to her glee.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

**GREN: hey**   
**GREN: how are you?**   
**GREN: I had a really fun time on our more-than-friends date**

 

Soren tried to ignore the messages, but they were burned into his brain.

Gren enjoyed their more-than-friends date.

Gren maybe wanted to go on _more_ more-than-friends dates.

But for some unknown reason, the thought filled Soren with pure panic. He just didn’t understand; he didn’t know how much _work_ Soren was. How he had to be fed and clothed and bathed and lifted and checked out and medicated and all sorts of ridiculous extra-curricular bullshit.

There were a few options, if Soren looked at the whole situation objectively.

Option one; go on the more-than-friends dates, get closer to Gren, enjoy himself, and then deal with the heartbreak when the circus packed up and left in a few weeks’ time.

Option two; go on the more-than-friends dates, get closer to Gren, enjoy himself. Gren would decide to stay with him so they could keep dating, but then he’d realise that Soren was way too much work and had effectively ruined his life, but he’d stay anyway because let’s be honest, who would _break up with someone in a wheelchair_ it’s just a dick move.

Option three; cut off all ties now, never go to the circus again as long as he lived, break Gren’s heart and die lonely.

Option three was sounding pretty tempting.

                **GREN: u ok?**

Nope.

When he’d told Claudia about not wanting to go on another date, she’d called him an ass. It didn’t take her very long to work out that he’d overheard the conversation between her and their dad the previous night, and as such she’d stormed out of the room to give Viren a piece of her mind.

His dad had apologised, but it didn’t really matter. The words had been said and Soren had resigned himself to a life of being a huge burden on everyone.

A huge burden that would never find love or have children or heck, even wipe his own butt.

‘This is bullshit,’ he growled.

‘Dude just let me do my job and then I’ll be out of your hair and you can sulk in peace,’ Marcos grumbled, lowering the bed down to an easier level.

‘Not you,’ the blonde apologised, still irritated. ‘Just… this. Everything. What did I do to deserve all this?’

‘Do you really believe that shit your dad said?’ the carer pressed, holding the button that sat Soren upright in his bed.

‘How do you know about that?’

Marcos pulled Soren forward and tugged his shirt over his head. The rush of cool air on his neck made the hairs there stand on end.

‘Claudia tells me _everything_ Soren,’ the carer said with a snort. ‘She doesn’t want me to skip in here to find you in a foul mood without having at least a heads up first.’

Classic Claudia.

‘Oh.’

‘Anyway, I take care of so many patients with tetraplegia, and most of them are in happy, committed relationships. You’re just being a sook,’ Marcos said, running a damp sponge across Soren’s back. ‘You’re very warm, do you want me to turn the fan on?’

Soren nodded, even though he didn’t feel particularly warm. Regulating his temperature was just one of those things his body didn’t feel like doing anymore.

‘I don’t want to end up with someone who ends up resenting me and is too scared to leave me,’ Soren pointed out. ‘My life is fucked.’

‘You’re such a drama queen.’ The sponge caught the part of his neck where sensation began, and the water was _cold_. ‘Sorry.’

‘S’okay,’ he replied. ‘Honestly though, what are the odds that someone would want to date me with all these problems.’

The door flew open and Claudia stood in the doorway, eyes bright with fury. ‘You’re the literal worst,’ she growled, her voice breaking.

‘That’s cool, whatever, you know Marcos was just bathing me,’ Soren grumbled.

The carer laid the blonde back on the bed so that he could glare at his sister with at least a shred of dignity, then booked it out of the room so that he wouldn’t be in the way.

‘Gren literally wanted all of that and you turned him away,’ she said, grabbing fistfuls of her own hair. ‘ _Oh woe is me I got hurt and my legs don’t work no one will ever love me the way I am, except this adorable freckly performer but he’s obviously deluded._ ’

Soren felt heat crawl up his neck. Claudia’s mocking tone was rarely used on him in actual serious situations.

‘I’ll bet you didn’t even say that you didn’t want to see him anymore, did you?’ she accused, pointing at him.

‘No,’ Soren confessed.

‘I’ll do it then,’ she insisted.

Soren watched helplessly as his sister snatched his phone from its stand. It was already open to Gren’s message thread, and her fingers moving over the keypad gave him the now-familiar feeling of anxiety stuck in his throat.

‘Claudia…’ he moaned softly. ‘Don’t…’

‘Don’t what?’ she asked, not looking up from the screen.

‘Don’t… hurt him.’

Claudia looked up at him in surprise. The anger was still there, under the surface, but it was mostly masked by her confusion. ‘You’re not going to stop me?’

He didn’t reply, just lifted his chin.

She kept typing then held the phone out for him to look at the screen.

**Message Draft: _You’re really cute and I’m sorry I can’t date you because I would have really liked to._**

Soren felt his eyebrow twitch, and he clenched his teeth.

It was for the best.

‘Don’t make me press it,’ Claudia said in a low tone, her thumb hovering over send.

He closed his eyes but didn’t say anything. She was right, and he knew it. He should have broken things off cleanly, instead of dragging Gren through the mud.

She tapped the screen.

_Whoosh_.

With a crinkle of her nose, Claudia put the phone back in its stand for Soren to look at, then disappeared in a flurry of hair and disappointment.

**GREN: hey**   
**GREN: how are you?**   
**GREN: I had a really fun time on our more-than-friends date**

                **GREN: u ok?**

**SOREN: You’re really cute and I’m sorry I can’t date you, because I would have really liked to.**

Marcos peeked his head into the room.

‘Are you okay?’

‘Can we leave this for tonight, please?’ Soren asked, his voice thick. Crying wasn’t high on his list of things he liked to do, but it felt appropriate.

‘Sure thing. Let me put your shirt back on.’

Soren didn’t miss the way Marcos’ eyes scanned the screen. Even he recoiled a bit when reading the messages.

‘Thanks.’

‘He’s going to want to talk to you,’ Marcos said quietly, fixing the pillows.

‘I know,’ Soren said, looking up at the ceiling. ‘I’ll work out what to do.’

Marcos nodded, patted him on the shoulder, and left him alone in his room.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

In the middle of the Cirque du Xadia stage, Gren dropped his phone onto the freshly raked sand.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

**GREN: hey**   
**GREN: how are you?**   
**GREN: I had a really fun time on our more-than-friends date**

**GREN: u ok?**

**SOREN: You’re really cute and I’m sorry I can’t date you, because I would have really liked to.**

**GREN: wait what**   
**GREN: why??????**   
**GREN: Soren you can’t just ignore me we have to talk about this**

**GREN: Soren please**   
**GREN: I thought you had a good time**   
**GREN: if I overstepped I’m so sorry**   
**GREN: if you change your mind I’m here**

**GREN: goodnight x**

‘Soren?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Can I come in?’ Viren asked, coming in anyway without waiting for an answer. He sat on the end of the bed. ‘Claudia told me what happened.’

The blonde didn’t say anything, just focused on the movie playing on the screen on his wall.

‘I just wanted to say… I think you made the right decision. It hurts now, but you’ll be better off in the long run.’

He patted his son’s hand, then left without another word.

Soren cried until he fell asleep.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

The first show back after downtime was rough.

He nearly forgot a whole section of his routine with Corvus, and almost dropped Ellis when she was balancing on his feet.

He didn’t join the cast for the final bow.

Gren hadn’t performed well enough to deserve a bow.

And what made it worse? _Everyone_ was tiptoeing around him. They knew he’d been dumped, and they loved him too much to try and drag him out of it just yet.

So Gren moped. He spent time in his trailer, working through his mental block and trying to get himself into the right headspace to be able to perform.

‘He’s been through a really traumatic thing,’ Corvus said to him on the second night. ‘Maybe dealing with that, and seeing someone is just overstimulation at the moment?’

‘Do you think I overstepped?’ Gren had asked. ‘Oh god, I hope I didn’t.’

‘Come work with me in the ring,’ Corvus said, offering a hand. ‘We need to get you distracted.’

‘Pain demands to be felt.’

‘Don’t quote teenage romance novels at me,’ Corvus chuckled. ‘C’mon.’

Gren took his hand and followed his partner into the ring. Ellis greeted him with a tight hug around the knees, and Rayla shot a quip at him from her place by the barrier.

It was tamer than usual, and he felt at home under the big top for the first time in a long time.

‘Can you help me practice my handstands?’ Ellis asked, tugging on his sleeve.

And even though the pain was still there, Gren found himself relishing in the normality that his fellow troupe members offered. 

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

Claudia, meanwhile, was going spare.

Soren was usually a mopey jerk when he didn’t get his own way, but this was worse. Probably because of the incredible internal struggle he was battling with, still trying to wrap his head around the idea of being paralysed for life, however partially that may be, and the fact that their dad wasn’t really the most supportive person in the world.

But if she had to hear Soren’s angsty sad-emotion-processing music for any longer _she’d_ be the one packing up and leaving with the goddamn circus.

She loved her brother dearly, but now that he was tetraplegic she couldn’t exactly win any argument. He had the ultimate trump card. Sibling snarkiness was suffering greatly at the injustice that was his condition.

So the music kept playing, since nothing she said could snap him out of his funk.

                **CLAUDIA: I need your help  
                CLAUDIA: he’s miserable and I’m p sure he thinks Gren hates him**

She set her phone beside her laptop and kept working at her essay as a distraction. At least, she tried. The essay wasn’t exactly interesting and her concern for Soren was buzzing around her brain, tainting everything.

‘Claudia, you need to concentrate,’ she said to herself.

Her phone lit up and she snatched it up, assignment forgotten.

**CALLUM: what do u want me to do?**   
**CALLUM: I can ask Rayla how Gren is doing?**   
**CALLUM: oh actually**

Another notification popped up on the top of her screen.

_Callum created the group chat!_

_Callum: hey hey_   
_Callum: Claudia, Rayla, Rayla, Claudia_   
_Callum: Rayla, Claudia is concerned about Soren and Gren, do you have any input into this discussion?_   
_Rayla: Gren is huge sook and your dumb brother broke him_   
_Rayla: tell Soren I’m coming for his head_   
_Callum: she’s kidding, obviously_   
_Rayla: I’m not_   
_Callum: we talked about this_   
_Claudia: okay look Soren’s dealing with a lot of shit rn so let’s cut him some slack_   
_Claudia: would Gren be open to talking to him if I got Soren to that point?_   
_Rayla: Gren would swallow Janai’s sunforged sword if it made Soren happy_   
_Claudia: idk what that is but it sounds both positive and a little dangerous_   
_Callum: it’s the sword she swallows while it’s on fire_   
_Rayla: :elmo_fire_worship_gif:_   
_Callum: nO_   
_Claudia: ohno_   
_Rayla: :elmo_fire_worship_gif: :elmo_fire_worship_gif: :elmo_fire_worship_gif:_   
_Claudia: anyway I have an idea I just wanna know if you can help_

Maybe bringing others into Soren’s drama wasn’t her best idea. Rayla was nice, sure, but she seemed like the kind of person who couldn’t keep her mouth shut.

From the bedroom, Soren’s music got louder as the song changed over.

The boy needed someone messing with his drama.

Viren stuck his head into the bedroom, his eyes dark.

‘Is it considered poor taste to murder your only son, even if he’s in a wheelchair?’

‘I think so.’

‘How unfortunate.’

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

Soren could count on one hand the things that had changed his life.

One mental hand anyway.

  1. When he was ten years old, his mother had left.
  2. When he was thirteen years old, he’d seen his first ever baseball game live.
  3. When he was eighteen years old, he’d been accepted to university on a sport scholarship
  4. When he was twenty-one, he’d been in a horrific car accident and broken more vertebrae than there were items on this list.
  5. Also when he was twenty-one, he broke his own heart through his own stupidity.



And Gren’s heart too in the process, no doubt, if his messages were any indication.

‘Soren! Sorry to keep you waiting!’

His psychologist insisted on having their sessions in his office, which was fine. A little irritating but whatever. It meant that the blonde got out of his house, and since he hadn’t been to Cirque du Xadia in nearly a week the drab beige walls were a welcome change.

Florian – he’d joked about the ridiculous of his name when they’d first met – managed to manoeuvre him into the little room and set him up opposite the desk.

‘Make yourself comfortable,’ he joked, smiling so hard that Soren worried his face might just burst. ‘Sorry, sorry. Bad humour I know. You should hear my wheelchair puns.’

‘Are they wheely bad?’ Soren replied, quirking an eyebrow.

Florian threw his head back and let out a hearty belly laugh, which in turn made Soren smile. Only a little bit though.

‘You are a delight,’ he said, wiping away an imaginary tear. ‘Alright, wanna tell me what’s been happening? Your old man sounded pretty cranky on the phone.’

‘He’s always cranky,’ Soren sighed, looking over at the door. His father was waiting on the other side for him to finish up.

‘It’s true,’ Florian said, wisely stroking his beard. ‘He seems like the wettest blanket in the history of wet blankets.’

Soren couldn’t help but laugh at that.

‘So really,’ Florian continued, dropping himself into his chair with enough force that the legs groaned in protest. ‘Something obviously happened for you to need an urgent appointment. Did something happen with uh… I don’t remember his name… the circus performer?’

‘Gren,’ Soren confirmed, the name getting stuck in his throat.

‘Yes, Gren. I should write that down… all I have is freckly redhead pretty boy can probably touch toes,’ Florian mumbled, scratching words onto the page with his tongue between his teeth. ‘Yes, so last we talked you were having little crushies on Gren.’

Soren spluttered in response. ‘It wasn’t _crushies_ ,’ he said, caught somewhere between outrage and embarrassment. What was he, ten? ‘We were just kinda… close.’

‘And you were going on a date, yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘And how did that go?’

How did that go? Soren let himself remember the date in detail for the first time in a few days. How they’d had milkshakes, which Soren hadn’t had in years, what with his strict sport-diet. How Gren had told him about his past as a performer, and how the blonde had been able to work up the courage to talk about his accident. How Gren had _held his hand_.

‘Good.’

Florian quirked an eyebrow. ‘Just good? Is that all?’

‘It was good,’ Soren repeated, looking out the window. ‘We’re not going on another one though.’

The psychologist crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. ‘So you went on a hot date with pretty freckle boy… and had a great time… and you’re not having another one.’

‘Yes.’

‘Fair enough,’ he replied, making another note on his scratchpad.

‘You don’t think I’m an asshole?’ Soren asked.

Florian rolled his eyes. ‘Why would I think you’re an asshole?’

‘Because… Gren wanted to date me… he went out on a limb for a guy in a wheelchair and I just… shut him down. I was an asshole,’ the boy in the wheelchair pointed out.

‘So you were rude to redhead pretty freckles?’

‘I just texted him that I can’t date him, and haven’t replied to any of his messages.’

‘Okay, that’s a little asshole-y, I’ll admit. But you’re obviously juggling a few different issues right now, and sometimes a relationship just falls to the bottom of the heap,’ Florian explained. ‘They’re important, yes, but when you have appointments and your life is mid-meltdown, maybe you’re not in the right space to be with someone right now.’

‘But I _want_ to be with Gren,’ Soren pouted. ‘I just don’t want to make his life difficult.’

‘Newsflash kiddo,’ Florian said, stroking his beard again. ‘Life is difficult. If someone loves you, they don’t care about the hardships, they’ll go through it with you. That’s what love it, to a certain extent. But just because someone is willing to accept you, wheels and all, doesn’t mean that you’re ready to be a partner. Your number one priority is you. Not sparkles red hair man.’

‘Gren.’

‘Yes, Gren. Same thing.’

Soren chewed his lip.

Opeli had said something about his mental headspace. Maybe there just… wasn’t room for someone in his life at the moment.

‘So you’re saying… I’m not an asshole for needing to focus on my own things…?’ Soren confirmed.

Florian tapped his bottom lip with his pen. ‘I think you’re struggling. You’ve had a massive shift in your life, and we can joke about puns and crushies-‘

‘Crushes.’

‘-all day long but that won’t get us anywhere, and apparently if you’re a psychologist you need to make actual progress with your patients,’ he finished. With a grunt of effort the giant man got to his feet, catching his belly on the edge of the desk, and he rummaged around in his drawers. ‘I’m giving you homework.’

‘Seriously?’ Soren grumbled. ‘How am I supposed to do… what is this?’

The psych was holding up a DVD case, a stupid smile on his face.

‘I want you to take this home and watch it. You only need to see it once, but if you wanna watch a few times that’s fine. We’ll chat about it in our next session.’

Soren didn’t get to see the cover, and Florian tucked it into the bag hanging from the back of the wheelchair before he could twist and try to read the title or the spine. Curiosity welled up inside him, but then he was answering questions about his treatments, and the movie was forgotten.

As Florian wheeled him out to Viren, Soren realised that he felt better. Not a whole lot better, granted, just _lighter._

The notion that just because his heart wanted to be with Gren didn’t mean that his brain was ready for it was almost freeing. Granted, he was still confused and frustrated and sad, but chatting to someone always gave him a momentary sense of purpose.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

‘Soren, we’re all going to Cirque du Xadia tonight and we’re taking you with us,’ Claudia said, squaring her shoulders.

Soren quirked an eyebrow.

‘Callum and Ezran are coming too, because Rayla has a new act and apparently Ellis has something she wants to show you and it would be rude of you to not go and support Ellis.’

‘Also Gren is really mopey because you stopped talking to him,’ Ezran added, licking persimmon from his fingers. Callum scrambled to drag his brother out of the room and let Claudia handle everything.

‘So… just to be clear… do you want me to watch Rayla and Ellis… or talk to Gren?’

Claudia ran her hands down her face, making herself look gaunt for a moment until the tension released. ‘All of the above,’ she replied finally, in a deadpan.

Surely, he could manage to go back to Cirque du Xadia. He was fine. Like Florian had said… he was a grown ass adult.

But the anxiety knotted itself in his stomach anyway. So many things could happen; Gren could yell and scream at him, tell him all about how much of a jerk he was. Or he could be mean, which Soren was honestly terrified of. The idea that someone he considered a friend… a more-than-friend… could be cruel. No, Gren couldn’t be cruel to him, surely.

Gren could cry.

Soren dismissed the thought immediately for two reasons. One, he didn’t even know if what they had was something worth crying over. It was to him, but Gren was the small light in the darkness of his life. Gren on the other hand lived in the lights, and surely just one face in the crowd was hardly enough to miss.

Two, the idea of Gren crying made his heart ache in a strange way and he didn’t like it.

Soren lifted his chin a little. There wasn’t anything wrong with not being ready for a relationship. Florian had told him that it was okay. Florian had also given him homework that involved a Disney movie but whatever.

Talk to Gren. Explain himself. Repair the damage.

_Talk to Gren. Explain himself. Repair the damage._

‘Okay,’ he said simply with a tilt of his head.

Claudia blinked at him. ‘R-really?’

‘I said yes already, don’t make me change my mind.’

And so Soren was bathed, bundled up in a thick coat and loaded into the van. The city sped by them as Claudia drove them, and he couldn’t help but think about Gren. It honestly hadn’t been that long, maybe three or four days? But for Soren it felt like a lifetime.

The blue and silver flags caught his eye and anxiety balled up in his stomach, dull and heavy. As they got closer and the towers of the big top appeared, the feeling in his stomach travelled higher and wrapped around his ribcage.

By the time his wheels touched the dirt, breathing had become a task.

‘You okay?’ Ezran asked, leaning on Soren’s knees.

‘Not really.’

‘Yeah, you look pretty scared,’ the child said. The lizard in his pocket just stared at Soren, blinking its eyes ever so slowly.

Callum shooed Ez away from Soren’s chair and ran ahead while Claudia waited with him.

‘Why did I agree to this?’

‘Because deep down you miss your friend,’ Claudia replied wisely, trying to untangle the bottom of her braid from a button on her shirt.

Soren took a moment to watch her fiddle with the button, only to realise that he was an idiot for ever thinking his sister was wise.

‘Are you gonna wheel me into this hellhole, or do I have to get up and walk?’ he asked.

Instead of answering, Claudia just held the end of her braid aloft in triumph.

Callum and Ezran returned to escort the siblings through the waiting crowd and into the big top alongside Rayla, who glared daggers at him the whole time. They’d left his usual space clear, and Claudia expertly wiggled the chair into place.

Rayla stood in front of his chair, arms crossed and her hip cocked to one side. ‘Got anything to say for yourself?’

Soren lifted his chin.

‘Rayla hey it’s okay,’ Callum said, jumping to Soren’s rescue.

‘It’s not okay,’ she said with a scowl. ‘He just let Gren think he’d done something wrong!’

‘And he’s here to make it right,’ Callum said, taking her hands.

Soren quirked an eyebrow at the way the performer released all the tension in her body. She squeezed Callum’s fingers before shaking her hands free.

‘Good, I’ll go get him then,’ Rayla said decisively, turning with a flick of her hair and vaulting over the barrier.

Soren breathed in through his nose and closed his eyes.

‘Ezran, I’m about to go buy us a _bunch_ of snacks, so many snacks,’ Callum said, putting his hands on his hips. ‘Can you come with me and help me carry them?’

‘I’ll come too!’ Claudia added, jumping to her feet. ‘Come on Ez let’s go!’

Soren rolled his eyes. ‘At least bring me back a packet of chips,’ he threw over his shoulder.

Claudia nodded, then her eyes flicked up to the other side of the ring and she ushered the others out of the big top.

Soren turned back to the front, and Gren was standing in the ring, arms crossed. It was like getting knocked in the stomach with a baseball bat.

The redhead was painted from head to toe in the thick blue paint for his first routine. His hair was slicked back and his blue eyes were fierce.

‘Hey Gren,’ Soren said quietly, and the anger in the performer’s eyes softened slightly.

‘I’m upset with you,’ he said, voice clear and steady. He crossed the sand until he was standing in front of Soren, only the barrier between them. ‘But just tell me… did I cross your boundaries?’

‘No,’ Soren replied with a firm nod of his head. ‘You were perfect, I’m just a jerk.’

Gren visibly relaxed, his shoulders sinking and his weight shifting to his back leg. He also uncrossed his arms and put his hands on his hips. The blonde in the wheelchair couldn’t help but swallow as the redhead rolled his head around in a circle.

In contrast, Soren’s anxiety was back in full force.

Heart rate? Climbing.

Throat? Thick.

Palms? Sweaty? He had no idea, that part was numb.

‘Thank god,’ Gren breathed. ‘I was so worried, I figured I must have just crossed a line and fucked everything up.’

He came closer and leaned on the barrier, a tiny smile tugging at the corner of his lips. For a moment, the real Gren was there, not covered in paint, or half naked, but just Gren. In jeans and a t-shirt and covered in freckles and being an idiot.

‘I’m so sorry,’ Soren blurted. ‘I panicked. I didn’t want you to regret tying yourself to me.’

Gren snorted. ‘Soren a milkshake isn’t a proposal,’ he said, awkwardly scratching the drying paint on the back of his head. ‘But I mean… I understand. You’re going through some stuff and you’re probably already overwhelmed as it is.’

Soren looked down at his chest, shame prickling his skin. ‘I know but I should have at least talked to you about it.’

‘We’re talking now,’ Gren pointed out. ‘Although not for long, Aaravos is in the tent doorway with your sister and he’s giving me devil eyes.’

‘I’ll wait,’ Soren promised. ‘After the show. Can we talk then? Is that okay?’

Gren gave him a soft smile. ‘Yeah, course we can. But I gotta go now.’

‘Break a leg,’ Soren called, and the strongman turned and crossed the ring, giving the blonde a few seconds to admire him from the back.

‘So, you’ve broken the heart of one of my performers, and you’ve put my show on hold for your personal drama, is there anything else we can do for you, Soren?’ came Aaravos’ voice from Soren’s right.

The Ringmaster stood tall in his full glittery glory, resting a hand on the backrest of the wheelchair and looking down at him with intense eyes.

‘Sorry,’ Soren said, scrunching up his face. ‘I’m learning.’

‘Slowly,’ Aaravos said with a sigh. ‘But that’s better than nothing. It’s good to have you back here.’

Claudia chose that moment to return with the boys, their arms laden with more snacks than anyone should have. Harrow would have to deal with a very sugar-hyped Ezran later. Aaravos stepped over the barrier and across the ring without another word, and people finally started filling the surrounding seats.

As the lights dimmed and the music swelled, Soren realised how much this place had come to mean to him. It was an escape from his reality, a place where he had friends… kind of. A place where he could just sit and enjoy something without worrying if others were staring or worrying about him.

The circus was spectacular.

Ellis showed off her handstands on Gren’s feet for the Risley, earning a tremendous round of applause even when she fell into Runaan’s outstretched arms. Rayla performed on the aerial hoop during the first half, blowing a kiss to a certain member of the audience while hanging upside down.

‘Do we need to tell Harrow that Callum’s flirting with pretty circus girls?’ Claudia asked at half time, earning an eager yes from Ez and Soren, and a horrified no from Callum.

When the lights lowered for Gren and Corvus’ routine, and a hush came over the crowd, Soren felt tingles of excitement inside his chest. Watching them for the first time in nearly a week was like dipping his feet in cool water on a hot day.

The routine was exactly the same; contrasting painted bodies, hard and taut, yet soft and flowing; blue and white dancing together in the sand. But it was also like seeing the routine for the first time.

He noticed small details; the way Corvus held his hands, delicately, beautifully; the way Gren tested his footing in the sand before a trick to make sure he was stable; the way they communicated silently, with facial twitches, imperceptible nods of their heads, and changes in facial expression.

And as Gren and Corvus and Rayla and the whole troupe took a bow at the end of the show, Gren caught his eye and smiled.

That was the moment that Soren realised that he was fucked.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

Watching a sugar-hyped Ezran was honestly one of Soren’s favourite pastimes. Watching Claudia and Callum try to _wrangle_ a sugar-hyped Ezran was even better, and the child had consumed at least a whole toffee apple, a bag of popcorn and countless jelly tarts.

‘I want to be able to do handstands on Gren’s feet,’ he declared, sticky hands in the air.

‘You need to wash your hands before you get filling everywhere,’ Claudia muttered, offering him a tissue.

‘Gren!’ Ez called, ducking around Claudia and racing to the barrier. ‘Can you teach me how to do handstands?’

Soren watched the redhead as he walked towards them, with Corvus and Rayla and Ellis in tow.

‘Sure, handstands are easy,’ Gren said with a smile. ‘I’ll show you!’

He sat down on the sand and lay on his tummy.

‘Can I try too?’ Ez asked, already halfway over the barrier. He wiped his sticky hands on his jumper before pulling it over his head and tossing it to Soren.

At Soren.

Either way, he got a face full of sticky fabric.

‘Ezran!’ Callum scolded, but Ez was already next to Gren on the sand.

‘Okay, so you sleep on your tummy like all performers, right?’ the redhead asked, and Ezran nodded. ‘Good. Doing handstands is just like standing up.’

He stretched his hands above his head, looking at Ez.

‘Like this?’ the child asked, copying.

‘Perfect. We always start the morning with a big stretch.’ He stretched his arms even further in the sand.

‘Okay then what?’

‘Now you wanna dig your palms into the ground,’ Gren instructed.

By this time, Corvus and the others had reached the barrier. Rayla and Ellis wiggled back so they were sitting on it, and Corvus just leaned, looking like a movie star.

‘This is a trick, right?’ Soren said.

‘No,’ Rayla drawled, looking over her shoulder. ‘Ezran will _totally_ be able to just do a handstand from the floor without any training.’

Soren stared at her, eyebrow raised.

‘You’re not great with sarcasm, are you?’

‘No, I’m really not,’ Soren replied, turning his attention back to Gren and Ez.

The younger boy had dug his hands in like he’d been told.

‘Now you wanna just… pull yourself forward,’ Gren explained, and with a roll of his huge, freckled shoulders he dragged his body forward, almost like his legs were dead weight.

Ezran tried to do the same, but he just ended up wiggling until he was in the foetal position on the sand.

‘Then it’s as easy as standing up!’ Gren grinned, curling his legs underneath him, then rotating his shoulders to lift himself into the air.

After a moment to get his balance, he straightened his legs right out and pointed his toes.

Ezran sat up with a grumble. ‘It didn’t work.’

‘What are you talking about? It worked fine!’ the redhead laughed, balancing himself on one hand and offering the other one for Ez to shake. His supporting wrist shook with the effort.

‘You’re a show off,’ Corvus pointed out, and Gren lowered himself back to his feet, red in the face and out of breath.

‘Yeah, that’s why I joined the circus,’ he laughed.

For Soren, watching them felt like he hadn’t just messed everything up. It felt natural and normal and light and happy. He’d missed it.

‘Anyway, I came out here to chat to Soren,’ Gren pointed out. ‘The rest of you are just bratty tagalongs.’

Corvus put his hand to his heart, outraged.

Rayla rolled her eyes and slipped off the barrier. ‘Whatever. I need to show Callum something anyway.’

Callum’s face went redder than Gren’s risley suit when Rayla took his hand and dragged him over the barrier, across the ring and behind the curtain.

Ellis slipped off the barrier on the seating side and leaned on Soren’s wheelchair. ‘Did you see my handstands in the show?’ she asked, eyes bright.

‘They’re getting so much better,’ Soren said with a nod. ‘You and Gren been practicing hard?’

‘Uhuh. One day I’ll be able to do them from flat, just like him,’ she smiled.

‘Come on, go take Ez and Claudia backstage or something,’ Gren said, stepping over the barrier and lifting Ellis up and over, setting her gently down on the sand. ‘Maybe not backstage, because Callum and Rayla are probably doing yucky things, but you know.’

‘What kind of yucky things?’ Ezran said with a frown.

‘Like holding hands and stuff. Ew, gross,’ Claudia interrupted. ‘Come on, Ellis can we meet your dog? From your act?’

‘Ava!’ the child replied, her whole face lighting up. ‘She’s so smart, come on we’ll go meet Ava!’

One by one the group vanished behind the blue starry curtain, and Gren and Soren were left alone.

‘It was a good show,’ Soren said, tipping his head to the side. ‘Sorry I didn’t clap.’

‘Clapping is overrated,’ Gren replied, leaning on the barrier in front of Soren’s chair. ‘Screaming is way more satisfying.’

Soren almost choked, and Gren’s expression changed to one of pure panic.

‘I didn’t mean it like _that_ ,’ he said, waving his hands as if that would disperse the innuendo into the air and they would both just forget it happened. ‘Get your mind out of the gutter.’

‘You said it, not me,’ Soren snorted. ‘Just filthy, Gren. What if the children were still here?’

‘Stop,’ Gren laughed. ‘Argh, never mind. Just. Hi. How are you. We have stuff to talk about, let’s get on with that.’

Soren snickered. It felt good to laugh, and tease and just be silly with him. Almost like being on their date again.

‘I’m sorry if I pushed you,’ Gren began, crossing his arms loosely across his chest. ‘I don’t normally date or anything and the last thing I wanted was to make you uncomfortable.’

‘You didn’t make me uncomfortable,’ Soren interrupted. ‘I got scared? I guess is the right word?’

Gren ran his hand through his hair, mussing it up.

‘Yeah I just panicked. Because you’re really funny, and you’re friendly and positive and upbeat and just a ray of fucking sunshine, Gren,’ Soren said, resting his head back against the headrest. ‘And I was worried that if you decided to keep hanging around me then all the doom and gloom would snuff that out.’

With a heavy sigh, Gren moved to sit beside Soren, leaning forward so that the blonde wouldn’t have to crane his neck to look him in the eye.

‘I’m sorry I put you in that position,’ he said quietly. ‘We moved… very fast. Maybe, if dating isn’t what you’re ready for we could just be friends?’

‘You’d still want to, after I was an ass?’

‘I’ll forgive you this one time,’ Gren smirked. ‘Let’s start again, as friends. We’ll just hang out and talk and whatever and if… _things_ develop from there, then we can jump that hurdle when we get to it.’

‘Things?’ Soren clarified.

‘Feelings? I don’t know,’ Gren said, his ears going red. ‘I like you Soren, and I know you like me. But if you’re not in the right headspace for that, then we handle it like adults.’

Soren couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘Stupid feelings.’

‘Right?’

‘So lame.’

The two laughed softly, then fell into comfortable silence.

‘Are you done yet?’ Ezran called, popping his head out from behind the curtain. A hand, presumably Callum’s, dragged the boy back behind the curtain.

‘Do you think they’re listening?’ Gren asked with a frown.

‘Knowing my sister? Absolutely,’ Soren sighed.

‘We’re done,’ Gren called, then added; ‘Yeah I’ll bet Rayla had a part in it as well. She seems oddly invested in my social life.’

Ezran pulled the curtains back and led the group back to where Soren and Gren were sitting. Claudia, Rayla, Callum, Ellis, yes, but also Aaravos, Janai and Villads.

‘Everything sorted?’ the Ringmaster asked, eyebrow quirked.

‘Everything sorted,’ Gren confirmed.

‘Good,’ Janai said, hands on her hips. ‘I expect you to be back to normal during practices.’

Claudia’s phone rang, and she excused herself to take the call.

Soren wondered if it was their dad, asking about where they were, or Harrow, requesting that his children be returned home since it was getting late.

‘So I’m assuming you’ll be coming around again?’ Corvus asked. ‘You know, distracting my partner so that he drops me.’

‘That was _one time_ and you were fine.’

Soren watched them bicker, while Janai and Aaravos spoke in quiet undertones and Rayla showed off her handstands for Callum and Ezran. It felt like a family, even though they weren’t related.

The circus tent sometimes felt a little warmer than home, even.

Claudia did her best to herd the group back out to the van, and Gren offered to push Soren’s chair out through the makeshift carpark.

‘Can we just promise to communicate a little better?’ the redhead asked, pulling back from the rest of the group.

Soren hummed in agreement. ‘Yeah, we can.’

‘Good. Because uh… I really missed you. As a friend, and a more-than-friend.’

The blonde craned his neck so that he could look upwards. ‘I missed you too.’

Gren gave him that odd look again, the one he’d seen a few times before, but it disappeared in an instant.

The lift shuddered as it rose, and Claudia took over loading Soren into the back of the van.

As they raced through the city, Soren felt better than he had in a while.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

Like some unwritten rule, Soren texted Gren that night after dinner. Claudia had set up his movie from Florian and left the menu screen to play over and over until he was ready to start.

**GREN: so I had an idea**

**SOREN: did it hurt**

**GREN: hahaha**   
**GREN: ur hilarious**   
**GREN: we have a family friend who plays pro-baseball**   
**GREN: she’s deaf**

**SOREN: yeah?**

**GREN: her name’s Amaya, do you want me to give you her number?  
                GREN: she might be good to chat to**

**SOREN: about baseball or**  
  
**GREN: dude she’d love you forever if you talked baseball with her**

**SOREN: cool, ty  
                SOREN: yeet it my way**

**GREN: don’t be that guy**

Claudia poked her head in the door after knocking. ‘Do you want the movie yet?’

‘Yes please,’ Soren yawned.

His sister tucked his blankets in to keep him warm, readjusted the arm his phone was on so that it didn’t block the television, added Amaya’s contact to Soren’s phone and pressed play on the dvd.

                **SOREN: goodnight**

**GREN: goodnight!**

Soren let his phone screen go dark and squished his head into his pillows. Since he wasn’t able to snuggle down in them, this mini-ritual gave him some sense of comfort. His room was bathed in a cool, blue glow from the tv screen, and the opening scene from Finding Nemo played out in the quiet.

Florian had given him this dvd specifically, and he no doubt wanted Soren to think about why.

But tonight he was tired, and so he just watched without thinking.

Somewhere around the middle, he drifted off to Dory telling him to just keep swimming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? I hope so aha.  
> As you probably know, the content of this fic is pretty intense, even if there's fluff and a fun backdrop. I do not have tetraplegia, or paraplegia, and most of this fic is based on what I've been able to research. However I do have issues with my health, one of my issues being problems with my leg, hips and spine.  
> Guys, writing this fic is exhausting aha. I'm not abandoning it, no way, I love it too much. But the next update might be a while away since I'm going to take a break. I'll still write; I'm participating in some fandom events.  
> In the meantime you can find me on tumblr @aaravosed, on instagram and on twitter.  
> Come chat! Talk to me about this fic, I'd love to answer questions, as long as they're not spoilery. 
> 
> Hopefully I'll be back soon.  
> Love Stormy.


	6. ACT VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said I was on hiatus, but I had one, I swear. Like, two days worth.  
> Then I went back and read what I had planned for this chapter and it was like... I couldn't not write it.  
> This is the chapter that I wrote this whole fic for, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> If you want a little extra, I listed to 'From Eden' by Hozier on repeat as I wrote.

✪  ✪  ✪

_~~You’re dreaming with your eyes wide open~~ _

✪  ✪  ✪

 

 

‘I had a question for you.’

Soren hummed in response, an invitation to continue. He was in his bed, blanket pulled up to his chest and propped up on a few pillows. Gren was sitting in his trailer, on his belly on the little pull out bed. Soren only knew this because he’d finally caved and agreed to facetime for the first time since his accident.

‘You know my friend Amaya? She wanted to know if we were interested in seeing a baseball game this weekend,’ Gren said, picking at the stitching of his blanket.

‘Don’t you have to do the show all weekend?’ Soren asked.

‘It’s a Friday night game,’ Gren explained. ‘I can do the first half of the show and then leave, I already cleared it with Aaravos.’

‘So you’re gonna disrupt the whole running order just so you can go hang out and drink beer and eat junk food and watch a game?’ Soren asked with a snort.

‘What? No, I’m not drinking anything,’ Gren frowned, offended. ‘Why would I drink if I was looking after you?’

‘Oh.’

Gren did a double take at the screen, then brought the phone so close to his face that Soren would probably be able to count his blurry freckles.

‘Are you blushing?’ the redhead asked, getting to his knees.

‘No,’ Soren replied automatically, even though his ears were warm and he was pretty sure that yeah he was blushing.

‘You _are_ , you’re happy that I’m gonna stay sober and look after you!’

‘Well I can’t exactly do it myself,’ Soren grumbled. ‘Besides, I didn’t even say I was going yet.’

Gren snorted and rolled onto his back, holding his phone way up. ‘You know you want to. Also Amaya got the tickets especially for us. You have to go or you’ll hurt her feelings.’

‘Oh, well we can’t hurt Amaya’s feelings,’ he said.

Gren gave him a smug look that meant Soren had well and truly lost the argument. ‘So I’ll pick you up at 6?’

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

 

‘I thought you were letting the redhead go,’ Viren said, leaning against the doorframe.

‘I thought you didn’t care what I did,’ Soren countered, twisting his neck to stare around Marcos’ head.

‘What a ridiculous thing to say,’ Viren said, his boots making slow ominous thuds as he crossed the room to stand by the end of Soren’s bed. ‘Of course I care about you and what you’re doing.’

‘I’m going to a baseball game with a friend,’ Soren said, emphasising the last word. ‘Don’t stress, I’ll be home before curfew.’

‘Soren…’ Viren said in the low tone he used when he didn’t enjoy his son’s attitude.

‘Daad,’ Soren retaliated in the same tone.

‘If you’re not going to take this seriously, I’m not going to discuss it with you any further.’

‘Oh no, I’m definitely taking this seriously,’ Soren replied with a little frown. Marcos finished buttoning up the front of the blonde’s shirt and stepped aside. ‘I’m seriously going to the baseball, with Gren who is a serious friend, and I’m going to have a _serious_ amount of fun.’

Viren helped Marcos get Soren into his chair, and the carer straightened up Soren’s jumper.

‘There’s a scarf in your bag, and a hat if you need it. All the important information is in a notebook for Gren just in case he needs it, including the chair info. You’ve got water and snacks, can I remind you to take it easy on the alcohol if you decide to have any,’ Marcos ticked each item off on his fingers.

‘I’m not drinking,’ Soren assured him. ‘And it’ll be fine.’

When Gren turned up at his doorstep wearing a thick jacket and a big grin, Soren melted a little.

‘Are you sure you’re going to be able to manage this?’ Viren asked Gren, in a voice that implied he most definitely didn’t think Gren could handle it.

‘How hard could it be? You just push him round, right?’ Gren replied with a breathless laugh.

‘Pretty much,’ Soren said with a supportive nod. ‘We’re gonna be late if we don’t get going.’

Claudia listed off every last minute thing she could think of as Gren helped her load Soren into the back of the van, and Soren was pretty sure she hesitated in handing over the keys.

‘Soren if you need any help just call me,’ she said as Gren shut the doors.

‘It’ll be fine,’ Soren replied. ‘Go write your essay or something. You’ve always got something due.’

Claudia huffed, but her face was still that mask of concern as Gren pulled out of the driveway.

‘You sure you’re okay with this?’ the redhead asked as they turned at the end of the street.

‘Gren, please just take me on a cool friend date to the baseball,’ Soren replied a little wistfully.

‘Sure thing,’ Gren promised, leaving Soren’s house far behind them.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

The space around the stadium was packed with people, and Soren’s anxiety was at it’s peak. To his surprise, Gren took everything in stride, organising the tickets and transport up to the reserved members box.

‘Do you mind if I leave you here for like five minutes?’ Gren asked, gesturing a spot by the window. It was still cold in the member’s box, but the glass at least stopped the biting wind.

‘Uh, I guess?’ Soren said with a frown. ‘As long as you promise to come back.’

‘Of course I will. I’m gonna grab some food.’

Soren’s anxiety bubbled under the surface while Gren was gone. A gentleman in a nice suit and a team-coloured tie came to chat to him and make sure he was okay. Once he was sure Soren wasn’t in need of any assistance, he wandered back to his group of other nice-suit-team-tie-gentleman buddies, but it eased the blonde’s anxiety somewhat.

Gren finally reappeared with food and drinks and an outrageous orange scarf wrapped around his neck.

‘They only had stall food I’m sorry, so we’re gonna have to feed you a hotdog somehow,’ he apologised, dragging a seat over to sit beside Soren’s chair.

The last thing Soren really wanted was for Gren to feed him phallic food covered in mustard and tomato sauce, but at the same time it had been literal months since his last hotdog and he was suddenly craving one.

‘I also got you this,’ the redhead said with a grin, draping an identical orange scarf around his neck. The nice-suit-team-tie gentlemen gave them side-eyes, since now they were cheering for the opposing team.

‘This isn’t my team,’ Soren protested quietly.

‘It is now,’ Gren insisted, adjusting the scarf a little. ‘You’re welcome.’

Soren mumbled an apology, and his thanks, and accepted the offered hot dog. Gren seemed to be more focused on not getting sauces everywhere than anything else, and he even managed it, much to everyone’s surprise.

‘I think we’re about to start,’ Soren pointed out.

Live commentary played through a speaker somewhere behind them, but the view from the box was excellent. The first few innings passed without much said between the two aside from their own observations of the game, but around halfway through Soren decided that there was no point going on a cool friends date if he wasn’t going to talk with his companion.

‘So how do you know Amaya?’ he asked casually.

Gren tore his eyes from the game without any hesitation, his face lighting up. ‘She’s an old family friend. I actually learned sign so I could talk to her. She’s great, honestly, you’d love her.’

‘You’ll have to thank her for the tickets for me,’ Soren said, rolling his head around in a circle to alleviate some of his neck pain.

‘I can do that,’ Gren said with a nod. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, my neck is just sore.’

‘Do you need me to do anything? I can rub it or something like that?’ Gren offered.

‘You’d be okay with that?’

‘I told you I could manage to look after you for a few hours, didn’t I?’

Soren couldn’t argue with that. He lifted his chin so Gren could remove the orange scarf, and instructed him on how to remove the headrest. It lifted out with a click, and Soren felt a chill across the back of his neck.

‘Okay, where does it hurt? Here?’

He pressed two fingers on each side of Soren’s neck.

‘A little further back.’

Gren’s hands were so warm.

‘Is that better?’

‘Uh… a little more.’

Gren found the spot and started to rub tiny circles into the aching muscle. Soren let out a tiny sigh of relief.

‘Thank you,’ he mumbled, closing his eyes.

‘That’s okay,’ Gren replied quietly. He kept massaging the spot and slowly moved around to different pressure points on Soren’s neck as the game progressed. It felt so good that Soren nearly fell asleep. So when he no longer felt Gren’s fingers on his skin he let out a sad little noise.

‘Why did you stop?’ he asked, turning his head around to look Gren in the eye.

The performer’s face was a strange mix of sadness and shock. ‘I didn’t,’ he said quietly. ‘You can’t feel that?’

Oh.

‘No,’ Soren replied, looking back out the window at the game.

‘Sorry.’ His voice was barely a whisper. Gren carefully replaced the headrest, then wrapped the scarf around Soren’s neck, and sat back down next to him.

‘That felt really good,’ Soren said, his voice a lot flatter than he wanted it to be. ‘Do you have to do that when you’re practicing circus stuff?’

‘Yep,’ Gren replied. ‘Corvus especially makes sure we both get regular massages since our routines involve some seriously slow movements.’

They were silent for a while, just watching the players on the field run around.

Soren wondered if anything had ever happened between Corvus and Gren. The idea of massaging like that… maybe not just a neck… it was intimate. Their whole routine was intimate. The levels of trust they must have in each other was more than what normal people had for each other. And even though they were on a cool-friends-date and not a more-than-friends-date, Soren wondered if Gren had felt the same thing as he’d worked the knots out of the blonde’s neck.

Or had he just been too spooked by the idea that Soren had no idea that there were fingers working muscles he no longer had any sensation in.

It had to be a shock, Soren understood that. The idea that you could touch and he wouldn’t feel it. There were only a few people who actually understood, like his dad and Claudia. Others were just plain rude.

_So I could just kick you and it wouldn’t hurt?_

That was a common one. People didn’t understand that just because he didn’t feel pain it didn’t mean that he couldn’t bruise, or bleed, or break bones.

_I’m so sorry you’re in this situation._

That was another one. Like it was their fault. Or like his life was over. Like there was something that could be done.

_Everything happens for a reason._

That one earned only one response, ever. Fuck off.

‘Did I push too far?’ Gren asked quietly, offering Soren the paper cup with fizzy drink inside.

‘What? No, not at all. Why would you say that?’

‘You went really quiet and started frowning about whatever you were thinking about,’ Gren pointed out.

Soren sipped at the sugary drink. ‘Sorry, I’m okay. I just don’t want to freak you out.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘I literally couldn’t feel your massage,’ Soren pointed out. ‘That’s gotta be… you know. A shock.’

Gren gave a decisive nod. ‘It was. But I don’t want you thinking I’m like… panicking.’

‘You’re not planning your great escape?’ Soren asked, quirking an eyebrow.

The redhead snickered. ‘It’s gonna take more than a little numbness to scare me away.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yep. Do your worst, Soren. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘Are you sure coz it can get pretty gross.’

‘I eat gross for breakfast,’ Gren replied.

‘Are you boys actually watching the game, or are you just going to continue shamelessly flirting loudly in the corner?’ asked one of the nice-suit-team-tie gentlemen.

‘Sorry,’ Gren said with an apologetic grin, hiding himself behind Soren’s wheelchair. ‘Woops.’

‘So much for paying attention to the game,’ Soren snorted.

‘Don’t worry,’ Gren snickered. ‘We’ll have plenty of time to chat over dinner.’

‘Dinner?’

‘Yeah, it’s the meal you eat before you go to bed.’

Soren let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Since when was dinner part of the plan?’

‘Since I decided to take you out on a just-friends date.’

Soren grumbled quietly to himself for a while, but he couldn’t ignore that he was secretly very pleased.

As the game progressed, Soren felt himself fall into a false sense of normalcy. He was just a normal guy, watching a professional sports game with a good friend. In a fancy box with commentary and also free finger food apparently.

Gren had refused to feed Soren more than three mini quiches in case he ruined his mystery dinner, so by the time the seventh innings rolled around the blonde was famished. With enough pleading, Gren conceded and gave him an arancini ball with a roll of his eyes.

The night seemed to go in slow motion, and Soren’s stomach twisted at the idea that they would eventually have to go home and go to sleep; closing the book on the whole day. He didn’t want it to end.

After everything that had happened, after deciding so definitively that he _didn’t_ want to pursue something romantic with Gren… Soren was having doubts. If Gren wanted to be with him, even if it was just for a few more weeks, then why would he turn him down? Why would he shut himself away from love, even if it was brief?

Not that he thought it was love. Because that would be ridiculous.

‘Is something wrong?’ Gren asked, snapping Soren from his internal epiphanies.

‘Hm?’

‘You’re staring at me.’ Gren self-consciously wiped his face. ‘Do I have quiche on my chin?’

‘Yes,’ Soren replied seriously. ‘All over.’

The redhead rolled his eyes and went back to watching the game.

Their team won, and Soren couldn’t help but cheer loudly to annoy the nice-suit-team-tie gentlemen. They waited for the crowds to clear a little before attempting to wheel Soren out again.

‘I hope you made a reservation,’ Soren said, looking up at the man pushing his chair. ‘Everywhere’s gonna be packed.’

‘I did,’ Gren assured him. ‘Come on, we’re going up there.’

He pointed to a restaurant on a street corner a block down from where the van was parked.

‘Am I going to fit?’ Soren asked, anxiety pricking at his senses.

‘I checked with the staff, it’s totally accessible. Don’t stress.’

It lifted Soren’s heart to hear that Gren had _specifically_ scouted out a place where he would be welcome.

The staff greeted them with a smile, obviously expecting them, and cleared a path of the servers so they could get Soren into a tiny elevator with mirrors on all the walls inside.

He rarely saw his reflection anymore, so it shocked him a little to see himself. Red-cheeked from the cold, blonde hair all over the place from the wind; just like himself, except in the heavy black chair. His orange scarf stood out in his vision, matching with Gren, who stood comfortably behind him, hands wrapped around the handles of the chair like it was the most normal thing in the world.

‘You okay?’ Gren asked.

‘Yeah,’ Soren replied, looking him in the eye through the mirror. ‘I’m just sad I can’t give myself some sick finger guns.’

Gren clicked his tongue and his fingers into a pair of finger guns, aimed at Soren again through the mirror. He also squeezed one eye shut and stuck out his tongue.

As the elevator doors opened with a groan, Soren was fighting down laughter.

The third level was a breath of fresh air – literally. They were on the roof, with the lights of the baseball stadium taking up most of the view, but the rest of the city lit up the night skyline as well. The roof was tiled with huge grey slabs of concrete, and a little garden took up half the space.

Soren could hear cars, and people and the general hustle and bustle of the world below, but he could also hear the constant bubbling of a fancy water feature, and music floating upwards from the floor below them.

It was… something else.

‘Feel free to sit wherever is most comfortable,’ the waitress said, gesturing to a table with a white cloth. ‘We’ll set it for you when you’re ready.’

She handed Gren two menus, and he wheeled Soren into place. The blonde perused the menu while the waitress laid the table with a wine glass, a regular glass, a knife and fork and a napkin.

‘Did you want some candlelight?’ she asked, setting a bottle of water on the table.

Soren gave Gren a tentative look; it wasn’t a romantic date, just a cool-friend date, and candles might be too much.

‘Yeah why not?’ Gren said, leaning back in his chair. ‘Our team just won, we’re celebrating!’

The waitress gave him a smile and disappeared into the elevator with a promise that she’d be back to take their order.

The doors shut with a rattle, and they were alone on a rooftop, under the stars, waiting on their candlelight to arrive.

‘So,’ Soren said, clearing his throat. ‘This is all very _romantic_ for a just-friends date.’

Gren’s happy smile faltered, fear flashing in his lovely eyes. ‘Oh no,’ he said, sitting upright. ‘Is it too much? We can ditch the candles and the dinner and just go get pizza or something?’

Soren shook his head. ‘No way, this is great. I was just… you know. It’s cute. You’re cute.’

The redhead stared at him for a moment, confused and red in the ears. ‘Okay well… if I’m too much just tell me? I don’t want to push your boundaries and you said you just wanted to be friends.’

‘Technically I think we said we’d be friends unless feelings develop, then we’d cross that bridge when we got to it,’ Soren pointed out.

Before Gren could reply, the elevator doors opened and the waitress reappeared with two candlesticks and the same sickly sweet smile.

‘Know what you want to eat?’

Gren ordered first so that Soren could quickly finish looking through the menu the redhead held up for him. He decided on the least messy option.

While the server discussed various sauces with Gren, Soren just admired him with a tiny smile. His angled jaw, the countless freckles, the way he spoke with his hands. The way he’d given Soren an ugly orange scarf that matched his own, taken him on a cool-friends date that Soren desperately wanted to be a more-than-friends date.

How did Soren not realise how much he didn’t want to be just-friends with this freckly, funny, strawberry strongman?

The moment they were alone again, Gren rounded on him.

‘What did you mean by that?’ he pressed, leaning his elbows on the table.

‘We agreed,’ Soren reminded him softly. ‘That we’d try and just be friends unless we catch feelings, right?’

‘Right.’

‘But we already caught feelings.’ Was his face red? He was pretty sure his face was red. ‘Doesn’t that cancel out the friend thing already?’

Gren rubbed his chin. ‘I mean… yes. But you said you weren’t ready for a relationship. Which is why we’re pretending to be friends.’

‘You’re only pretending?’ Soren asked, feigning hurt. ‘Gren, I thought we had something special!’

His companion snorted. ‘It’s true. All this time, honestly, I just wanted to drive the van.’

‘That stupid, sexy van,’ Soren sighed, leaning his head back.

Even though their conversation carried on through a number of irrelevant things, the notion of catching feelings was stuck in Soren’s mind. Because Gren had agreed, without even a second thought.

This cute redhead liked him and wanted to be with him and part of Soren was so happy at the thought. Another part of him was terrified.

Their food arrived, and Gren alternated between feeding himself slices of steak and feeding Soren his chicken like it was the most normal thing in the world.

‘You know you can eat more of yours, right?’ he said. ‘I don’t want it to get cold.’

‘But yours would get cold too,’ Gren pointed out, and that was the end of that.

The food was delicious, and even though they weren’t drinking, Soren felt a delightful buzz just from the events of the evening. And the company, of course. Very important.

The waitress came back to clear their plates away, then brought them a single plate of dessert to share; a slice of thick, rich chocolate cake with ganache icing and a side of fresh fruit to help it go down.

‘Oh my god,’ Soren hummed, closing his eyes. ‘This is the best cake I’ve ever had.’

‘Right?’ Gren agreed, stabbing another little piece off for himself.

The cake disappeared quickly, leaving nothing but crumbs and a ganache smear on the white plate.

Gren smacked his lips. ‘Do you want some fruit?’

‘Yeah, I’m eyeing off those strawberries.’

As Gren picked the plumpest strawberry from the pile, Soren’s heart started hammering against the inside of his chest. Being fed with a fork was one thing and being fed because you literally couldn’t feed yourself was also one thing.

But Gren was going to feed him this goddamn strawberry by hand, and that was a whole other category of thing.

His expression was innocent and happy as he held the bright red fruit up for Soren, and it wasn’t like he could just say no.

If his hands responded to his brain, Soren knew they’d be trembling. He opened his mouth to bite into the sweet flesh of the berry, his lips tingling where they made accidental contact with Gren’s cold fingertips.

‘Good?’ the redhead asked, apparently oblivious to Soren’s heart beating three times faster than normal and threatening to shatter his ribcage.

He let out a breath that turned into a laugh. ‘Yeah,’ he murmured, leaning his head back. ‘Oh god.’

‘What?’

‘This being friends thing is really hard,’ Soren replied.

Gren looked at him, then at the half-eaten strawberry in his hand, and his face slowly turned a shade that Soren would pay good money to see more often. ‘I didn’t even… I’m sorry, that was… super romance-y, wasn’t it?’

‘You think?’ Soren said with a breathless laugh. ‘You’re going to kill me.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘I’m not complaining,’ Soren told him.

Gren rested his cheek on his hand and huffed. ‘What are we going to do?’

Soren groaned in response. ‘I have no idea.’

They stewed in their own thoughts while the server came back up to clear away the desserts.

‘Can I get you anything else?’ she asked, and Soren’s mouth was saying words before his brain could stop him.

‘Can we have some coffees please? Caffeine helps me work problems out.’

She returned quickly with two steaming mugs of coffee and some sugar for the table. On each saucer was a little piece of chocolate.

‘Fancy,’ Soren hummed, licking his lips. ‘Can you put four sugars in mine then let it cool down? Claudia’s spilled hot drinks on me way too many times in the last four months and now I’m traumatised.’

Gren snorted but did as he was asked.

‘Right, what time is it?’

‘Bout 11,’ Gren said, checking his phone.

Soren grumbled. ‘I’ll need to go home soon.’

The noise on the street had slowly been dying down, and lights everywhere were shutting off. They could both see their van in the carpark from the rooftop vantage point, and it was slowly being left behind as others who had been to see the game headed home.

‘I like you,’ Gren said suddenly, out of the blue. ‘I know you’re not in a good spot at the moment, and I know you’re worried, and I don’t want you to feel any pressure to do anything I just…’

He let out a sigh and raked his hands through his hair, the strawberry fringe falling back into his eyes a little fluffier than before.

‘I just wanted you to know.’

Soren felt warmth in his fingertips and his toes; not real warmth, just metaphorical warmth, but it felt good nonetheless.

Gren gave him a small, sad smile, then finished off the last of his coffee. ‘Do you want your chocolate?’ he asked, changing the subject.

Soren nodded, his voice stuck in his throat. Even before his accident, no one had ever said things like that to him.

No pressure, just… I like you.

It made his heart race.

Gren went to pick up the little piece of chocolate on Soren’s saucer, only to find that it had melted next to the hot mug. The blonde couldn’t help but laugh at the sight.

‘You can have mine,’ the redhead offered, sticking the finger with the melted chocolate on it in his mouth.

Soren waited patiently and thought of other very boring things while he waited for Gren to feed him the piece, but the performer was going to town on his chocolatey fingertips.

‘Having fun?’ he asked eventually, quirking an eyebrow.

‘Mhmm,’ Gren hummed, levelling him with a crystal blue stare, sucking the last of the confection from his finger. ‘Are you?’

Soren swallowed. ‘Mhmm.’

Gren smirked.

‘Are you teasing me on purpose?’

‘I would never,’ Gren replied, wiping his hand on a napkin and offering Soren his piece of unmelted chocolate.

The blonde savoured the piece as Gren got them ready to leave, making sure they had everything and wheeling him towards the elevator. ‘Did you at least have fun?’ he asked as the doors rattled open.

‘Gren I don’t think I’ll have this much fun ever again in my whole life,’ Soren said with a decisive nod, ignoring his reflection in the mirrors. He knew he was bright red, and he didn’t need visual confirmation of the fact.

‘Why are you so dramatic?’ Gren laughed, and the doors rattled shut, cutting off their view of the rooftop, the city, and the best night either of them had ever had.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

The drive home was quiet. Late night radio took the place of conversation, and Soren watched the city speed by with the occasional yawn. He felt full.

Every now and again he thought about giving Gren directions that would get him home faster than what the navigator was telling him, but that meant the night would end sooner and he didn’t want that.

As it was, he had maybe fifteen minutes until he was in his driveway, and that wasn’t enough time to sort out his feelings into something he could vocalise. The fact of the matter was that Gren would be leaving in a few weeks. And if they started something now, they’d be setting themselves up for heartbreak later on.

The fact of the matter was that, at this point, Soren didn’t really care.

_I like you. I just wanted you to know._

Had anyone in the history of the world ever said anything so sweet?

Soren had studied Shakespeare in high school, and nothing that old fart wrote gave him even a fraction of the feelings these words had given him.

_I like you._

_I just wanted you to know._

How could he even top that? If he wanted to confess, that is. Did he want to confess? Was there anything to confess?

The feeling of the van going up the driveway snapped Soren from his introspection. Panic gripped at his chest; it couldn’t just _end_ – at least not like this.

‘You okay?’ Gren asked, turning around in the driver’s seat.

‘Yeah, Soren replied. ‘Just thinking.’

Gren slid out of the driver’s side door and opened the back of the van, twirling the keys around one finger. He raised the electric lift so that he could wheel Soren onto it, but first he had to undo all the safety clasps that kept the wheelchair in place.

‘We’ll get you inside where it’s warm, just hold on a sec,’ Gren promised, kneeling to free the front wheels.

Soren took a breath through his nose. It was now or never. He had to say _something_ , let Gren know that he _did_ feel the same way. But it was hard to summarise everything he was feeling into just mere sentences; there simply weren’t any words good enough to convey how he felt.

‘Gren?’ he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

The redhead looked up at him, bright blue eyes wide with curiosity, and his face cast in the shadows from the dimly lit streetlamps that lined the road.

‘I, um…’ _Breathe. Be honest. Just let him know how you feel_. ‘Would you kiss me?’

_What_.

That wasn’t the plan.

Oh god, what had he done.

‘Would I, or will I?’ Gren asked, arching an eyebrow. His voice was impossibly soft.

‘W-will you,’ Soren clarified. Too late to chicken out now. Just roll with it. ‘You don’t uh… you don’t have to. I don’t want a pity kiss or anything I just… thought it would be… nice.’

_Thought_ it would be _nice_? Had he left his brain on the rooftop in the city?

Gren’s lips were on him before he even had a chance to react. They were soft, and cold, and so so gentle; it was a chaste kiss. A pressing of lips to lips, and nothing more.

Soren blinked, and Gren was gone, leaning back on his heels with a cautious expression.

‘Was that okay?’ he whispered, curling his fingers in the air between them like he wanted to reach out and touch.

Soren let his breath out. ‘That was… nice.’

Fucking- _come on_.

Gren gave him a tiny smile.

‘Okay wait, just give me a minute I need to get this out or I’m gonna explode,’ Soren said quickly, craning his neck forward a little. ‘I don’t know how I feel, because I’m really shit at doing emotion things.’

Gren rested his hands in his lap, his back pressed against the back of the seat.

‘You were right when you said I wasn’t in a good spot. I’m… fucked. My mind is all over the place, and my body is useless, and I’m really scared,’ Soren said quickly, looking anywhere but Gren’s curious, beautiful face. ‘And the circus was meant to be a nifty distraction but honestly meeting you and watching you perform and being around you I just…’

He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t know. It’s not… love. But I think… if we had more time… it could have been?’

Gren readjusted himself so that he could be closer to the front of Soren’s chair.

‘I don’t really know what I’m feeling,’ Soren confessed, finally meeting Gren’s gaze. ‘But I want to be around you, and after tonight I think I want to kiss you again. And I wish I could touch you and hold you and treat you the way you deserve to be treated. But most of all I don’t want you to feel like you _have_ to do anything you’re uncomfortable with just because I’m in a wheelchair. I just want someone to like me for me.’

Everything clicked into place, and he gave Gren a cheeky grin. ‘I like you,’ he announced. ‘I just wanted you to know.’

Gren let out a soft burst of laughter, and Soren felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The redhead gave him a soft look.

‘Can I kiss you again?’ he asked.

Soren nodded eagerly.

‘Can I touch you?’

‘Depends on where,’ Soren told him, a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth.

Gren rolled his eyes but moved his hand so it hovered by Soren’s jaw. ‘Here?’

‘Mhmm,’ Soren managed.

Gren’s hands were freezing against the warmth of Soren’s skin, but the sensation sent the most delicious shivers down his neck. He cupped Soren’s jaw gently, tilting his head slightly higher to allow for easier access to his mouth.

Again, that brush of lips; softer than Soren could ever have imagined. Gren’s nose nestled in beside Soren’s, their foreheads touching as they drank in each other’s presence. Then Gren kissed him again, slightly more insistent. The blonde’s eyes fluttered closed, almost of their own volition.

Soren sucked in a heavy breath through his nose as Gren held his face and kissed his lips and stole his heart in every possible way. The redhead let out a breathy sigh, and Soren grinned against his mouth in response. They moved together, learning and exploring and tasting everything that was on offer. Soren’s heart had given out minutes ago.

They broke apart to breathe, but Gren held Soren’s face gently, keeping it close. He traced soft lines across Soren’s cheek with his thumb, smiling warmly down at him.

‘It would be so easy to fall in love with you,’ the redhead whispered, threading his fingers through Soren’s numb ones. He brought Soren’s hand to his mouth and peppered light kisses on each of his fingertips, his palm, the inside of his wrist.

Soren swallowed. All he wanted was to curl his fingers, take Gren’s hand, caress his skin and play with his hair and all those things that you were supposed to be able to do to show your affection for someone.

‘I don’t want to let you go,’ Gren said with a sigh. ‘But your sister is probably sitting at the door waiting for us.’

‘She can wait a few more minutes,’ Soren replied, his voice catching. ‘I don’t want to go inside.’

‘We can’t live in the van forever,’ Gren countered, resting Soren’s hand back down on the armrest.

‘The stupid, sexy van?’ Soren said with a laugh.

‘The stupid, sexy van.’

Gren shuffled so that he could lean forward and peck Soren lightly on the lips. ‘If you get pneumonia I’ll never forgive myself,’ he said, unbuckling the straps that held the wheelchair in place.

Claudia was waiting for them, dressed in an oversized jumper and leggings tucked into fluffy socks with bears on them. Her hair was in a haphazard ponytail with a pencil jammed in there for good measure.

‘Hey, are you okay?’ she said, holding the door open so that the wheelchair would fit. She took them in curiously, and Soren realised that Gren was red in the face with fluffy, messed up hair and swollen lips and a cheesy grin on his face.

And Soren probably looked very similar.

‘We’re fine,’ he said, hoping she’d never ask him about what they did all night.

Gren offered her the keys to the van and checked that he had his own. Claudia made herself scarce for a few minutes under the excuse of getting Soren’s bed ready, and the blonde had never been more grateful for his scatterbrained baby sister.

Alone in the entryway, the heat from the vent above them stung their wind-whipped skin and there was a level of tension between them. Gren stepped around the chair so he was facing Soren and leaned down to capture his mouth in a long, lingering kiss.

‘Thanks for a good night,’ he said, wrinkling his nose in happiness.

‘Thank you,’ Soren replied. ‘I’m glad our cool-friends date was a smashing success.’

Gren rolled his eyes. ‘I am a cool friend.’

‘Go home,’ Soren snickered.

Gren kissed him once more, sweetly, and called a goodbye to Claudia. She reappeared almost instantly and locked the door behind him.

‘You have a stupid smile on your face,’ she told her brother, who just tipped his head to one side.

‘I don’t care,’ he said, grinning. ‘Nothing you can say to me right now will ruin my mood.’

‘Don’t think of Dad doing the macarena in his underwear,’ Claudia said, pushing him down the hallway to his room.

Soren huffed, but he leaned his head back on the headrest and stared up at her with a silly smile. ‘ _Nothing_ , Claudia,’ he repeated, half closing his eyes.

She didn’t say anything, but he could tell that she was pleased that he’d had a good night by the look on her face. She got him ready for bed with the promise that Marcos would be by the morning to do all the usual things.

Once he was alone, and the lights were off, Soren wiggled his head around to find the perfect spot. Just as he closed his eyes, the phone on the stand lit up.

                **GREN: Thank you for a great date  
                GREN: I think we’re gonna be great friends**

A laugh bubbled its way up his throat, and he buried his face in the pillow to hide his grin from himself.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

Even though he knew he wouldn’t see Gren until Monday, the notion that nothing could dampen his mood persisted over the course of the weekend.

Marcos chastising him for leaving important things too late? No effect.

His father’s nosy questions about his personal life over breakfast? Zilch.

Claudia’s incessant cheerfulness? He might actually be _happier_ than her for once.

When she wheeled him into his psychologist’s office on Monday morning, armed with a dvd copy of Finding Nemo and the blissful memories of the most perfect evening out, Florian was immediately asking him questions.

‘You’re looking a lot better than the last time we spoke,’ he said, wiggling past his desk to sit on the edge.

‘I had a good weekend,’ Soren replied with a tip of his head. Naturally he’d messaged Gren all weekend, when he wasn’t performing of course.

‘Is this sparkly redhead spandex boy?’

‘Gren.’

‘Yes, Gren,’ Florian said with a wave of his hand, as if he didn’t really mind what Gren’s name was, and just wanted all the dirty details of the weekend.

‘We went on a date on Friday,’ Soren said, excitement creeping into his voice. He hadn’t really told anyone about the date, since his sister would tease him, and his father didn’t really care. ‘It started out as a friends date and uh… didn’t end that way.’

‘Did you have a good time?’ Florian asked.

Soren let out a noise that was a cross between a groan and a sigh. ‘It was… the best night of my life.’

‘So far.’

‘No, nothing will ever top it. Ever again,’ Soren said definitively. ‘He was _perfect_.’

The psychologist tsked as he took his seat behind the desk. ‘No one’s perfect, Soren,’ he reminded the blonde in the wheelchair. ‘And did you watch this?’

He gestured to the copy of Finding Nemo on the desk.

‘Yes,’ Soren said with a nod.

‘How many times?’

‘Uh… a few? The first time I watched it I forgot I was meant to be watching it for a reason and I had to then rewatch it and pay attention. And then I watched a couple more times with Claudia,’ Soren explained.

‘And?’

Soren looked down at the case of the dvd on the desk. ‘At first I thought I was meant to be looking at Nemo… coz you know, he has his lucky fin. But then Claudia pointed out a lot more to the story; Dory has her memory loss, which is also kind of a disability, and without her Marlin wouldn’t get anywhere. And then obviously Marlin is an overbearing jerk dad… but he’s just scared and he loves his kid and doesn’t want anything to happen to him.’

When Claudia pointed out all these deep messages in the kids movie, Soren had had to rewatch a few times to really understand them, but he was glad that he did.

‘I can see how you thought I would relate to it.’

‘Would you like to know why I asked you to watch it?’ Florian asked, picking up the case and turning it around a few times.

‘Did I get it wrong?’

‘No,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘You definitely found a lot of useful things in the film, but that wasn’t why I gave it to you.’

Soren frowned. ‘Why would you give me a kids movie if it wasn’t to study all the little shit they hide in there?’

Florian gave him an innocent grin. ‘Because it’s a good movie, and you’re so hyper-focused on negatives, and schedules, and all this crap going on in your life that you haven’t taken any time to enjoy yourself.’

Soren stared at him for a moment, but his mind wandered back to the first time he’d seen the film. Tucked up in bed, after a long day. It had been just the thing he needed to unwind. Irritation prickled under his skin.

‘If I’d known _that_ I wouldn’t have asked Claudia to help me psychoanalyse it,’ he grumbled.

Florian let out that hearty belly laugh of his, apparently unaware of how he’d annoyed his client. ‘If I tell you, then there’s no point to the exercise. Children’s movies have a lot in them, as you can see, but they’re also great for relaxing. Don’t forget to have some fun, Soren.’

Soren rolled his eyes, but mentally stacked the note away.

_Remember to have some fun._

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

‘Are you planning on going to the circus again tonight?’ Viren asked, sitting in the chair that was a permanent fixture at the side of his bed.

‘I told Gren I would,’ Soren replied. ‘Do you have an issue with that?’

Viren looked like he very much did have an issue with that, but instead he just twisted his mouth into a strange shape then said ‘No.’

‘I… Gren and I we’re uh… kind of a thing,’ Soren said after a beat.

‘A thing?’

‘Yeah. A thing.’

No labels, or timeframes. Just Soren and Gren.

Soren and Gren against the world.

‘Do I need to warn you to be careful?’ Viren asked, crossing one leg over the other.

Soren rolled his eyes. ‘Would you tell me to be careful if I wasn’t in a wheelchair?’ he asked.

‘Has he kissed you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he ask you if it was okay first?’

A tiny frown marred Soren’s handsome features. ‘Yes,’ he said, disliking the implication of his dad’s words.

Viren got to his feet. ‘If you weren’t in a wheelchair, Soren, I would be comfortable knowing that if someone tried to take advantage of you, you could deter them. As you are in a wheelchair, and cannot physically stop someone from taking advantage of you, forgive me for being concerned.’

Soren and his dad stared at each other for a moment or two, the blonde’s brain working through what had been said. He thought of Marlin, suffocating his son to keep him safe.

‘…that’s fair,’ he said finally, registering the surprise that flitted across his dad’s face. ‘Sorry. I appreciate your concern. But Gren isn’t like that.’

Viren scratched his beard. ‘Well… I trust your judgement.’ Then he turned on his heel for the door.

‘Hey Dad,’ Soren called. ‘Do you want to come with us tonight? To the circus? Harrow is coming with Callum and Ezran.’

‘Harrow is going, is he?’ Viren said, breathing in deep through his nose. Then his figure deflated slightly. ‘I think it would be best if I stayed here.’

Then he was gone.

 

✪  ✪  ✪

 

The show was spectacular, as usual, but there was an extra amount of _oomf_ from Gren in his acts, knowing that Soren was in the audience.

Aaravos had forbidden Gren from leaving backstage before the show, in case it got delayed like last time, and so Soren hadn’t even had a chance to speak to him or wish him luck. With Harrow next to him seeing the show for the first time, he was more than happy to talk about each of the troupe members; their skills and personalities.

‘And which one are you currently swapping spit with?’ Harrow asked in the intermission, making Soren’s face go red and his words utterly fail him.

‘That’s the single most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard of,’ he said with an awkward laugh.

‘Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing?’ Harrow replied, putting the bag of popcorn on Soren’s lap to prevent Ezran from shovelling it down by the handful.

‘Regardless of what we are or aren’t doing,’ Soren pointed out. ‘Please never refer to it as _swapping spit_ ever again in my presence. Especially when I’m not the only one doing it.’

‘Oh?’ Harrow asked, raising an eyebrow.

Soren could see Callum making cutting-throat gestures, but Harrow caught him.

‘It’s not what you think,’ Callum said quickly.

‘I’m thinking you’re also necking one of the performers,’ Harrow said, leaning back on the plastic chair with an arm around Ezran. ‘Who is she? Or he?’

‘ _She_ ,’ Callum said, his face going pink. ‘And no one is necking, or anything like that. We’re just friends.’

‘Friends that do gross stuff,’ Ez helped, tongue between his teeth while he played a racing game on Harrow’s phone.

‘She’s really nice, and from what I’ve seen they’re not doing anything inappropriate,’ Claudia piped up.

‘Weren’t you caught behind the curtains?’ Soren offered, a smirk on his face.

‘Callum, you and I are having a long talk when we get home,’ Harrow promised.

‘Oh look! The show is starting; this is Gren, right Soren?’ Callum hissed as the lights went down.

Soren and Harrow shared an amused look and went back to paying attention to the show.

Gren and Corvus delivered their strongman act flawlessly, and Harrow gave Soren an appreciative nod. Soren made sure to point out Rayla very clearly when he trapeze act rolled around, and again in her lyra routine.

As Aaravos called each cast member back to the ring for a final bow, Gren caught Soren’s eye and flashed him a cheeky grin and a wink.

‘He’s cute,’ Harrow said under his breath, leaning into Soren’s chair.

‘Right?’ Soren replied without thinking.

The cast took a final bow and started disappearing behind the curtain. Harrow had been briefed on the tradition of staying well past the normal time to talk to the cast, so he simply stood to stretch his legs then sat back down again.

‘So Soren’s dating Gren, the strongman with the blue paint, and Callum is fooling around with one of the trapeze girls… is this the heart stealing circus or what?’ Harrow said, getting comfortable.

‘Yeah, and apparently my dad and the Ringmaster know each other as well,’ Soren pointed out, and Harrow’s face grew curious.

‘It’s Aaravos, right?’ he asked, looking around the circus tent.

‘Yeah, sparkly guy.’

The curtains moved, and half the cast trudged out onto the sand in costume; Soren craned his neck for Gren but couldn’t see him. Corvus made a beeline for the small patch of audience members, Rayla hot on his heels.

‘Aaravos made him see people out,’ he explained, breathless. ‘Before he gets here, we have to know… did you two make out already?’

‘It’s for a bet,’ Rayla added. ‘So make sure you say the right thing.’

‘I don’t- what?’ Soren laughed, confused. If Gren hadn’t told them that yes, they had kissed, then he must have had a good reason.

Because they had kissed. In the back of a stupid, sexy van, at midnight, after a glorious night out together.

‘Are you serious?’ Corvus said, gripping his hair in frustration. ‘He didn’t kiss you? After all that he set up, he didn’t kiss you?’

Soren could feel his ears heating up.

‘He’s such a bitch,’ Rayla said with a snort, stepping around Corvus to go chat with Callum.

‘Speak of the devil,’ Corvus mumbled, and Soren twisted his head around so that he could see.

Gren and Aaravos came down the aisle, the redhead at a slightly faster pace. He stopped right beside Soren’s chair and gave him the most brilliant smile Soren had ever seen.

‘Hey you,’ he said.

‘Hey, you,’ Soren replied.

In his four months of paralysis, Soren had learned to rely on his senses a lot more than he did when he could move. As such, he’d become a smidgeon more observant, and since Gren was his favourite thing to look at, he’d picked up a lot about the performer’s body language.

So, when Gren’s tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his eyes flickered to Soren’s mouth, and he took a slow breath in through the nose, Soren already knew what was coming, and lifted his chin to meet it.

In front of everyone Gren kissed him with the insistence of someone who had been craving a kiss, one hand under his chin and his body bent at an awkward angle around the wheelchair.

It left Soren a little breathless and incredibly embarrassed but mostly blissfully happy.

‘Cough up,’ Corvus said, holding his hand out for Rayla.

‘What? Why? You can’t prove shit!’

‘That was _not_ a first kiss,’ Corvus replied.

Gren winked at Soren, and the blonde realised that his redhead very much enjoyed stirring his fellow cast members.

Corvus and Rayla bickered over the bet, and Gren knelt on the aisle side of the chair.

‘Sorry,’ he said, resting his chin on Soren’s arm. ‘I should have asked.’

‘Please,’ Soren said with a roll of his eyes. ‘Never apologise for kissing me like that.’

Gren grinned at him. ‘Since you’re so on board,’ he said, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear. ‘I’d like to kiss you more over the next few days, if you don’t mind.’

Soren nodded, smiling warmly at him. ‘I wouldn’t mind,’ he said. ‘I missed you.’

Gren leaned forward and planted a little kiss on his nose. ‘I missed you too.’

‘That’s disgusting,’ Rayla said, leaning against the barrier. ‘Get a room.’

‘Don’t need a room,’ Soren snarked. ‘Got a tent. If you have a problem, you can get lost.’

‘Take Callum with you, I know how much you two enjoy the space behind the curtains,’ Gren added.

Harrow rounded on his son one more time. ‘What are you doing in the space behind the curtains?’

‘They’re joking, Dad,’ Callum replied. ‘ _Right guys_?’

‘Not even a little bit,’ Soren said with a serious expression.

‘Totally factual information,’ Corvus added, and Rayla flipped him a very rude finger.

Soren rested his head on the side of the headrest and watched them all bicker and laugh. He watched Gren’s fingers trace tiny circles on the back of his hand.

He couldn’t hold Gren’s hand, or touch his face, or caress his hair.

He couldn’t run off with the circus when they eventually left, even though he kinda really wanted to.

But right now, Gren could kiss him and tell him sweet things and Soren really didn’t need anything more than that.

For now, everything was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmmm are you guys okay?  
> Coz I'm not.  
> I had to walk around a bit to get over the intense amount of fluffiness here.  
> Please watch Finding Nemo next time you have some time to wind down; its a genuinely lovely movie and it makes me happy and calm.  
> Thank you as always to Su and Porsche for beta help, and you can follow me on tumblr @aaravosed and find all my other social medias there too!  
> Let me know what you thought of the chapter, and remember you can also join the Sorgren Discord!


	7. ACT VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who read over this chapter in prep for me posting it, I really appreciate your help and advice. I wouldn't have gotten anywhere without you guys, and holy shit we're just shy of 50k how did that happen?
> 
> I would also like to take a moment to thank the Sorgren Community (so smol but so mighty and oml so so talented) on Amino, and also the Rayllum server for being super supportive. Idk if anyone reads these notes or anything but yeah, I love you all. I've also started planning for my next fic, so keep eyes out for that because after this one there's only THREE (3!!) chapters left of this fic!

✪ ✪ ✪

~~_ No one can rewrite the stars, how can you say you’ll be mine? _ ~~

✪ ✪ ✪

Two months ago, Claudia had asked her brother a simple question.

‘Happy?’

She hadn’t been serious, of course. In fact, it was just a snarky comment that slipped from her lips without a second thought.

The blonde’s face had fallen, his eyebrows meeting in a confused frown, like he’d forgotten what happiness was and that he was supposed to have it.

‘What do you think?’ he’d snapped back, his tone clipped and his pride wounded.

Claudia had learned very quickly not to discuss Soren’s happiness again, just in case his anger propelled his body forward far enough that he could bite her face off.

Fast forward two months, and she was watching Gren secure Soren’s wheelchair into the back of the van with practiced movements.

The dark haired woman chewed her lip as she took in the scene; it almost felt like prying, the way the two of them looked at each other; the way Gren’s nose scrunched as he messed with buckles and straps, and the way Soren’s eyes softened as he leaned as far as he could over the edge of the wheelchair to watch.

Gren gave the chair a shake, making sure it was secure.

‘Happy?’ he asked, looking up.

‘Yep,’ Soren replied instantly, popping the p and leaning his head back.

Claudia felt herself frown. She had no real reason to be upset – and even then, upset wasn’t the right word.

She was surprised.

‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Gren said softly, and Claudia averted her eyes as he kissed her brother lightly on the cheek.

‘See you tomorrow,’ Soren echoed, his voice gentle and warm.

The van wobbled a little as the performer stepped out of the back and onto the grass of the makeshift car park.

‘All set,’ he said, and Claudia felt herself smile in response.

‘Thank you.’ She shut the doors behind Soren and stuffed her hands in her pockets. ‘And also… thank you.’

‘Like, for more than strapping in the butthead in, or?’ Gren said with an easy grin, jabbing his thumb over his shoulder.

‘For everything,’ Claudia said with a sigh, wrapping her arms around her middle. ‘He was a mess. And he’s still a mess but at least he seems a little happier.’

Gren beamed at her, and he threw a soft glance over his shoulder at Soren, who was rocking his head to the music playing in the van, completely unaware. Claudia noticed his expression falter slightly. ‘I wish we could actually have time together… you know, without the show or whatever.’

‘What will you do when you guys have to leave?’ she asked quietly.

Even though she was the younger sibling, Claudia had always felt like she needed to look out for her brother. 

Even before his accident. 

_Especially_ after it.

‘We haven’t talked about it,’ Gren replied, scratching the back of his neck. ‘I don’t think he wants to.’

‘You need to make him,’ Claudia said. ‘Because it’s going to get here faster than you think, and I don’t want him getting hurt.’

Gren frowned a little as he processed her words. ‘I don’t want to hurt him.’

‘I know. But that doesn’t mean you won’t.’

✪ ✪ ✪

Soren was snickering at his phone when Claudia knocked on his door with a tentative smile.

‘Can I come in?’ she asked.

‘Yeah,’ he replied, still grinning at what Gren had texted him. ‘You okay? What’s up?’

‘Dad wants to uh… invite Gren over for dinner,’ she said, sitting herself in the chair beside his bed.

Soren groaned. ‘He wants to be rude, you mean,’ he grumbled.

Classic Dad; invite the partner over for dinner to ensure the partner  _ never comes back _ .

He got briefly caught up in the idea of Gren as his partner. 

‘Yeah, probably,’ Clauda sighed, lazily braiding her hair. ‘I can see if we can drag Callum and Ez over as well? And Harrow? He might be able to keep Dad under control?’

Keep dad under control. As if anything would keep Viren from voicing his opinion, regardless of who got hurt. Soren had watched his dad wear relationships down to the bone over and over again, to the point where it was even a miracle that they could consider inviting Harrow over for dinner.

‘Harrow doesn’t want to come and mediate for us,’ Soren said quickly. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure it’ll be fine. Gren probably won’t even wanna come.’

✪ ✪ ✪

Gren immediately agreed to go to dinner.

Of course he did, because he was _literally_ sunshine incarnate and honestly, Soren should have known better. As he chewed his lunch he also chewed himself out in his mind for overlooking such an important facet of the redhead’s character.

‘You know you don’t _have_ to come,’ he pointed out after a moment.

‘It sounds like you don’t want me to,’ Gren teased, offering Soren another bite.

‘It’s not that I don’t want you to…’ He paused. ‘Okay, it’s that I don’t want you to. But  _ only  _ because my dad is off his rocker, and I don’t want you exposed to that rubbish.’

Gren rested the untouched fork of food back on the plate and leaned on the table. ‘Soren if you think I haven’t dealt with people who don’t think us circus folk are real people, then you’re very wrong.’

‘It’s not that,’ Soren replied, rolling his head around in a circle to release the tension in his neck. ‘It’s that Dad thinks you’re a threat.’

Gren tilted his head from side to side as he considered what the blonde had said. ‘He’s got a reason to worry, I guess.’

‘Yeah but dad usually bypasses  _ reason  _ and just goes straight to  _ yelling _ ,’ Soren grumbled. ‘I don’t want him scaring you off.’

A smile tugged at the corner of Gren’s lips. ‘If you think  _ anyone  _ could scare me away from you, then you are as dumb as you are pretty.’

Soren’s ears burned, but he was slowly getting used to the compliments. ‘He’s going to be cruel and I don’t want to watch him pull you down.’

Gren shrugged. ‘I have a tough hide, Soren. It’ll be fine.’

The blonde let out a little hiss through his teeth.

‘Excellent. So, work out when you want to do dinner and I’ll be over there in my cleanest shirt.’

‘Wow, so impressive,’ Soren snickered.

Gren smiled warmly at him, and picked up the fork, offering Soren more of his lunch. The blonde accepted with an eyeroll, wondering what he’d done in a previous life to get so lucky.

✪ ✪ ✪

‘This is ridiculous,’ Claudia muttered, staring at Soren’s open wardrobe.

Soren was perched up on his bed, the pillows slipping down and leaving him at a weird angle. Marcos looked like he’d noticed, but deemed it not important enough just yet to do something about it.

‘I don’t understand how it can get so messy, since you can’t even use it,’ his sister grumbled, picking through shirts and slacks and jumpers.

‘Claudia, Gren doesn’t give a shit what I wear,’ Soren deadpanned. ‘And I’m fucking cold, just  _ pick something _ .’

‘But you’ve never brought anyone home before,’ she replied, running her hands through her hair. ‘This is _important_.’

‘I think I’ve got a good excuse for an exemption,’ the blonde grumbled, scowling at the wall.

Marcos got to his feet and cleared his throat. ‘Clauds, why don’t you let me and Soren go through it. You know, dudes. He’ll be presentable, I promise.’

The dark-haired woman grumbled under her breath but left the bedroom nonetheless.

‘ _ She _ puts the stuff away,’ Soren points out. ‘ _She’s_ a human disaster.’

‘She’s nervous for you,’ Marcos said, picking a pair of comfortable pants that he’d be able to sleep in later, and a nice blue shirt from the cupboard without a second thought. ‘How’s that?’

‘Warmer than this,’ Soren snarked, jerking his chin in the direction of his half naked body.

The carer rolled his eyes but managed to get Soren dressed without inciting any more rude, nervous comments. Once Soren was satisfied with his appearance, he allowed Marcos to move him to his chair, then wheel him to the kitchen table. His dad was sitting at the head reading a newspaper.

Soren narrowed his eyes. Viren never read the newspaper. He always got his news from reputable, online sources like everyone else on the goddamn planet. 

Which meant he was just trying to put Gren on the back foot, the asshole.

‘Is your  _ friend  _ here yet?’ Viren asked, knowing full well that he wasn’t.

‘No,’ Soren replied. ‘What’s for dinner?’

‘I don’t know, Claudia’s cooking.’

Soren wrinkled his nose. Claudia was… well.

To put it simply, Claudia’s cooking lacked a certain something.

A certain  _ edibility _ .

His dad was really pulling out all the stops to scare Gren away. Dread settled in the blonde’s stomach like a ball of lead.

Marcos left after making sure that Claudia and Viren would be okay to get Soren into bed on their own. After plenty of reassuring, Claudia managed to kick him out good naturedly, promising to call him if they needed him.

Then Soren was left alone with his thoughts. Every possible outcome played like a horror movie in his mind’s eye. They all ended terribly. 

Except for the one scenario where Gren got a good punch to Viren’s jaw before his dad set Gren on fire with his mind. That one was okay until his…. Boyfriend? Partner? Whatever. Until his _Gren_ went up in flames. 

A gentle knock at the door made his heart jump into his throat.

‘Claudia,’ Viren called lightly, not looking up from his paper.

She ducked out of the kitchen and zipped through the kitchen in an apron and oven mitts, and returned a few minutes later with Gren.

He  _ had  _ made an effort to look nice, Soren noted. His hair was different, styled to look like he hadn’t styled it, but it suited him. His shirt was, in fact, clean.

Claudia excused herself to check on the food and Gren sat down beside Soren’s wheelchair, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

‘Hey you,’ he said with a cheeky wink.

‘Hi,’ Soren said, feeling a sense of relief flood his body. He was still nervous, and frustrated with his father, but Gren’s presence calmed him.

‘Viren, good to see you again,’ Gren added, holding out a hand.

Viren stared at it over the paper, then sighed before folding it up to shake the proffered hand. ‘And you, Gren. Thank you for coming.’

‘Thank you for having me,’ the redhead replied easily, ever the charmer.

Viren looked like he very much didn’t want to have anyone over in his house, sitting at his dinner table and dating his son, but he also didn’t have a whole lot of choice.

Claudia saved them with her cheery voice, sweeping into the room with a hot dish of pasta for them to serve themselves. She pulled the oversized oven mitts off her hands and threw them back into the kitchen, but her smile faltered as she took in the seating arrangement at the table.

Soren’s stomach dropped when he realised that Gren was in _her_ seat.

Well, it was only _her_ seat because it was the one that his wheelchair was angled toward, and she was usually the one responsible for feeding Soren at mealtimes.

‘Do you want me to…’ she trailed off, resorting instead to drawing a circle with her index finger to indicate turning him around.

Soren looked at Gren, who shrugged.

‘I don’t mind, I’m happy to do it,’ he said with a cheery smile.

Claudia nodded and sat on Soren’s other side, and just like that the tension in the room tightened; like turning the tuning knuts on the head of a guitar. Too many turns and the string was bound to snap.

Viren dropped the folded newspaper onto a small corner table behind him, then stood. ‘Thank you, Claudia, this looks delicious.’

She beamed at him, and the head of the family picked up the serving spoon, giving himself a decent helping. He then offered it to Gren with a raised eyebrow.

Soren pursed his lips; he knew exactly what his dad was doing. He mentally bombarded Gren with the ‘special instructions’ that his dad expected of his meals, and he thanked every god he could remember when Gren nailed it.

Had he ever mentioned his dad’s crazy food rules? Maybe? He and Gren talked  _ a lot  _ so it might have slipped through without him even realising.

The redhead offered Claudia the spoon once he’d served himself also, and while she served herself, Gren started to cut up the pasta and the pieces of meat on Soren’s plate into smaller chunks.

‘Tuck in!’ Claudia announced, stabbing some of her food with a fork.

At once, the room was full of the clinking of cutlery on bone china. Gren, as usual, found the perfect balance between feeding Soren and himself without letting either meal go cold. Viren’s eagle eyes watched the redhead’s every move, until he caught Soren’s disapproving stare.

‘So how’s the show going, Gren?’ Claudia asked. ‘Did Ellis get her handstands down?’

‘She’s getting better every day!’ Gren said with a bright smile, offering Soren another bite of food. ‘She’s not at the point where she can do them unassisted in the show but Aaravos is happy to stand in the spotlight and be pretty so he doesn’t mind spotting when we perform the risley.’

Soren noticed the muscle in Viren’s jaw tense as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

Claudia and Gren were completely blind to Viren’s discomfort, chatting easily about the process of learning to do handstands while balancing on someone’s feet.

Despite the nervousness Soren had felt in the lead up, dinner actually finished up without a single snarky comment, and no arguments. Claudia stacked the dishes precariously and dumped them into the kitchen sink with a crash loud enough to make Viren flinch, then announced that she would put on the kettle and start on dessert.

‘While Claudia is otherwise occupied,’ Viren started, and dread settled like a stone in the pit of Soren’s stomach. ‘I think the three of us need to have a chat.’

Gren laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them, elbows on the table. ‘I think that’s a good idea.’

_ Ding ding, round one. _

Viren leveled Gren with a look; a look that said he was mentally picturing the redhead spontaneously combusting.

‘What is the nature of your relationship?’ Viren said quickly, like he had a mental list of questions.

‘Dad,’ Soren interrupted in a low tone, but Viren silenced him with a glance.

Gren leaned back in his chair. ‘Undecided,’ he settled on after letting out a slow breath. He looked over to Soren who tipped his head back and forth.

‘Undecided,’ the blonde agreed.

Viren was not impressed.

‘Not good enough,’ he pressed.

‘More than friends, no labels,’ Soren snapped. ‘Let’s not get into any more detail before you _regret it_.’

The muscle in the older man’s jaw was in serious danger of snapping completely. ‘And just how invested are you in this  _ undecided _ relationship?’

‘Very,’ Gren replied without a beat. He deliberately reached over and took Soren’s hand, squeezing his fingers.

Soren ached to squeeze back, but he settled on a soft smile.

‘And when you leave?’ Viren fired off, recharging the tension with a crackle. ‘What happens to Soren then?’

The corners of Gren’s mouth curled into a tiny smirk. ‘Contrary to what you seem to believe; you can part ways after being romantically involved without it being a great big mess.’

Soren noticed the whitening of his dad’s knuckles as he gripped the edge of the table.

‘Get out,’ he demanded in a low, dangerous tone. ‘Get out of my house, you will not see my son again.’

‘Soren’s an adult,’ Gren replied calmly, still seated. ‘If he wants to see me I’m not really very good at denying him anything.’

Viren squeezed harder, and Soren felt genuine concern for their kitchen table. Any more pressure and it was bound to splinter.

 ‘I said get out of my house.’

‘Dad, calm the fuck down,’ Soren growled.

‘Don’t you dare-‘

‘Hey!’ Claudia had appeared in the doorway. ‘Dad, chill out. You’re going to have a goddamn heart attack.’

Viren did not appreciate being told to calm down - if the throbbing vein in his head was any indication - but he took a few breaths and lowered his head a little to hide his face.

‘Soren? Gren? Coffee or tea?’ Claudia added in a lighter tone.

‘No, thank you Claudia,’ Gren smiled. 

Soren also declined with a shake of his head.

She vanished back into the kitchen in a puff of white powder; probably icing sugar.

Soren waited until Claudia was out of earshot before rounding on his dad once more. ‘You’ve been waiting all week to attack Gren and make him leave,’ he accused with a hiss. ‘I know you’re trying to be a good protective parent but you can’t be _this_ much of an ass.’

‘Soren, he’s using you to get his kicks. Then he’s going to leave, and you’ll never see him again. You’re struggling enough as it is and you’re only making things harder on yourself,’ Viren hissed back, finally making eye contact with his son.

‘Who _cares_?’ Soren cried. ‘Who cares, honestly? I’m having  _ fun _ , I’m feeling  _ good _ , and you want me to go back to being miserable all the time!’

Viren pursed his lips. ‘I’m trying to  _ help _ you, Soren.’

‘You’re trying to talk  _ at  _ me, dad,’ the blonde fired back. ‘You’re always talking at me, or over me, or about me, but you don’t really give a shit about  _ me  _ and what  _ I’m going through,  _ and definitely not what I  _ need _ .’

Viren blinked a few times to process the development that was his eldest child snapping at him. His fingers did not give up their stranglehold on the table edges, however. 

Naturally, Soren took that as an opportunity.

‘You don’t ask me what I’m worried about or if I wanna go back to school, or if I even like Marcos? Or Florian? Or Opeli? I mean I  _ do  _ but that’s not the point!’ His voice slowly got louder and louder. ‘And Claudia does all this shit for me, and she’s skipping classes and it’s  _ my  _ fault, because she thinks my accident was  _ her  _ fault, and it wasn’t, but she’s shooting herself in the foot to make me happier and I can’t deal with that.’

Oh… oh this is what it felt like when emotions were allowed to come out. He almost felt embarrassed to unload everything in front of Gren, but the gates were open and it was all coming out whether he liked it or not.

‘And sure, I haven’t known Gren for very long, but he’s really nice, and he likes talking to me, and in the end does it matter if he’s faking the whole thing? Or that he’s going to leave?’

_ Did it matter? _

‘No,’ Soren said firmly, answering on behalf of his stunned father. Maybe for himself as well. ‘It doesn’t matter that he’s going to leave. Because he showed me that  _ everyone  _ is worthy of love and support and respect, even if their legs don’t work and they need to be fed like an infant, or if they’ve got a fucked up past or a fucked up family, or whatever.’

‘Soren, you’re working yourself up,’ Viren said, finally releasing the table from his death grip.

The boy in the wheelchair scoffed. ‘You’re _ still _ not listening.’

‘Soren,’ Gren said quietly, offering him a tentative smile. ‘Take some steady breaths, love.’

The blonde was too busy focusing on his breathing to really pay any attention to the pet name, but he would definitely hyperfixate on it later, in bed.

‘Sorry,’ Soren said, exhaling through his mouth. ‘Sorry, oh my god, I just dumped all that out in front of you.’

‘Florian will be very disappointed he missed it,’ Gren said in that sweet, teasing tone that Soren loved so much.

Claudia poked her head in the doorway, holding up a dish. ‘I have dessert!’ she announced, but her voice was off. She’d heard what Soren had said, and he knew he’d get told off, or hugged, or both later on.

Gren stood up to take the pie from her while she got them fresh plates, and he served up a slice for everyone at the table without another word. Once again, the conversation lulled, replaced with the sound of spoons scraping bowls.

Viren watched Soren warily, like a predator whose prey had snapped back. 

‘This is really good Claudia,’ Gren offered, polishing off the last of his bowl.

It wasn’t. Gren was just being polite.

‘Thank you,’ Claudia replied. ‘Do you want some more?’

‘No, I couldn’t,’ Gren said, holding up his hands. ‘I ate way too much already.’

‘Corvus won’t be able to lift him,’ Soren offered and the redhead just poked out his tongue.

Viren let his spoon fall into the empty bowl with a clatter and he stood up. ‘Thank you for dinner, Claudia. Gren, thank you for coming. I am retiring to my study to work. Soren, I trust that your  _ guest _ will not be here past an appropriate time.’

Without waiting for an answer, the professor left the room with long strides and he took all the awkwardness from him.

The instant he was gone, Claudia reached over and slapped Soren on the arm.

‘Ow,’ he deadpanned, staring at the spot. Gren snorted.

‘That’s for telling him I skipped classes,’ she scowled. ‘Now I’m going to wheel you into your room and you and Gren can talk or whatever, and then in half an hour you’re going to bed because Marcos said that was your bedtime.’

Half an hour; plenty of time, and yet no time at all.

The moment Gren and Soren were alone, a prickle of self-consciousness came over him. Embarrassment at his mechanical bed, and his clothes all over the floor, courtesy of an over-zealous sister.

‘So this is where you are when you’re late night texting me,’ Gren said with a half smile, dragging the chair so he could sit opposite Soren.

‘This is it,’ the blonde replied with a sigh. ‘Gren, I’m so sorry about that, he’s just impossible…’

Gren waved a hand. ‘I got to come and see you. That’s the main thing.’

‘How can you be so sweet?’ Soren asked, leaning his head against the headrest. ‘Especially knowing that I come with all this bullshit.’

‘I love your bullshit,’ Gren said with a chuckle. ‘It’s what makes you,  _ you _ .’

‘You would have loved me before,’ the blonde said with a sad smile. ‘I was a lot of fun.’

‘You’re fun now.’

‘I would have left with you,’ Soren said, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘I would have ditched all this shit, run off and helped build props with Tinker until you could teach me how to perform.’

Gren’s eyes softened and he leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to Soren’s cheek. ‘That sounds amazing.’ 

‘But I can’t do that. I’m stuck here.’

‘And I might have to leave,’ Gren’s voice caught in his throat.

‘Yeah.’

‘You said that you thought it could be love,’ Gren said, a gentle expression on his lovely face.

Soren’s heart sank, because Gren was right, and he had said that. Heck, he’d even meant it. But that didn’t mean he was ready to hear the words repeated back to him.

‘I did. If we had time,’ Soren said, his eyes travelling down Gren’s face; past the straight bridge of his nose, past the spatter of freckles to his soft lips.

‘What are we gonna do?’ Gren asked, taking Soren’s hand and bringing it to his lips. ‘Because I… kinda wanna find out how love looks. On us.’

Soren felt himself melt like butter under Gren’s gaze. ‘You can’t… you can’t do that,’ he choked. ‘I can’t handle that.’

‘Love?’ Gren asked, frowning slightly.

‘Yes. No.’ He threw his head back against the headrest, making the whole chair shake. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Talk to me.’

‘Love is… hard,’ Soren said, meeting Gren’s eyes again. ‘Because I’m trying to pretend like you  _ don’t _ have to leave.’

‘We have a few weeks still,’ the performer pointed out.

‘A few weeks isn’t enough to find out what love looks like,’ Soren replied, Gren’s words feeling unfamiliar on his tongue. ‘I don’t think it can happen that fast.’

Gren looked like he wanted to argue but thought better of it. ‘Let’s just take each day as it comes and see where that gets us.’

The doctors had told him the same thing when he was in the hospital.  _ It’s a lot to deal with Soren. You’ll need some time to get used to things. Take things a day at a time. _

‘A day at a time,’ Soren conceded with a nod.

Claudia knocked to announce her arrival, then gave them an apologetic smile.

‘I need to get Soren ready for bed, and Dad locked his door. Soren, do you mind if Gren helps me?’

Soren did mind a little, because that involved lifting him onto the bed.

‘Only if he’s okay with it,’ he said, but Gren was quick to promise his assistance.

Soren felt his ears go red as Claudia pulled his nice blue shirt off; it had taken so long to decide on it, and now it was carelessly thrown on the ground. Gren watched with interest as she pulled a comfortable, long sleeved pajama shirt over his head and wrangled his arms into the sleeves.

She left him in the pants that Marcos had put him in, thank every god, because he wasn’t ready to have his legs - or anything else for that matter - on display for poor Gren to see.

‘Okay, so I’m going to ask you to take his top half,’ Claudia instructed. ‘Just need to put one arm where it will support his neck and shoulders, and the other under his hips. The bed comes down to make it easier.’

Gren nodded, but he didn’t seem too confident.

‘Look, if you drop me I won’t feel it,’ Soren pointed out, and the redhead just rolled his eyes.

‘I’m not going to drop you.’

‘You dropped Corvus.’

‘Oh my god, that was one time, and it was his fault. He was balanced on one hand and he sneezed.’

Soren snickered. ‘That’s not the way he tells it.’

‘Ready Gren? On three? One… two… three, lift!’

It was an odd sensation, to be cradled so close to Gren as he helped lift Soren into the bed. He didn’t get dropped, which was nice. But his cheek had been pressed to the warm skin of Gren’s bicep; he could feel the muscles straining against his dead weight.

Claudia readjusted his legs and tucked his feet into the blanket the way he liked it, then she gently nudged Gren out of the way so she could continue to tuck him in all the way up to his chest.

Out of habit she also set his phone up in its stand for him to use if he so needed, then she clicked the safety rail back into place. 

‘Alright?’ she asked.

‘All good. Thanks Clauds.’

‘I still haven’t forgiven you for ratting me out to dad,’ she said, pointing at him. ‘I’ll give you guys five minutes, then Soren needs to go to bed, Gren.’

Gren looked at his wrist even though he didn’t wear a watch. ‘Five minutes, got it.’

He moved the chair to its usual spot at the end of his bed, then sat back down in the chair.

‘Thanks for that,’ Soren said, turning his head back and forth to get his pillow into the right spot.

‘You look snug as a bug in a rug,’ Gren said with a small smile, leaning on the metal railing of the bed.

The blonde rolled his eyes. ‘Claudia insists, like I’m just going to throw myself out of the bed.’

‘Do you move in your sleep?’

‘Nope,’ he sighed. ‘Can’t even curl up on my side. It sucks.’

Gren gave him that sad smile that made his heart hurt. ‘A day at a time,’ he said gently, getting to his feet and kissing Soren very gently. ‘I have to leave now.’

‘No,’ Soren mumbled against Gren’s lips. ‘Stay.’

‘I think we pushed your dad far enough today.’

Soren pulled away from the redhead, curling his nose in disgust. ‘Let’s not talk about my dad when you’re kissing me, yeah?’

Gren’s shoulders shook with laughter, and he kissed Soren again on the tip of his nose.

‘You know what, you’re right,’ Soren grumbled, lifting his chin to encourage Gren to kiss him more. ‘I’m sick of you. Had enough. I’ll get my sister to kick you out.’

Gren grinned against Soren’s mouth as he captured his lips in another kiss. ‘You  _ adore  _ me,’ he snickered.

Soren couldn’t deny that, but he wouldn’t confirm it either. So he just kissed him back.

‘Two minutes,’ Claudia called as she passed the door, probably on her way to brush her teeth.

Soren broke the kiss with a grumble.

‘Well, I guess I’ll see you around?’ Gren asked.

‘You most definitely will,’ Soren promised.

‘Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight; drive back safely,’ the blonde instructed.

‘Never,’ Gren threw casually over his shoulder before disappearing from sight.

Forty minutes later, Soren’s phone lit up to let him know that Gren had arrived back at the circus site in one piece, and he buried his face into his pillow, smothering a giddy grin.

✪ ✪ ✪

Gren decided to take a few minutes alone in the car before he joined the troupe, staring at the goodnight text on his screen. Being with Soren for the last few weeks had been something entirely left of centre; something he didn’t realise he wanted, or maybe even needed.

For so long, Cirque du Xadia had been home. And his fellow cast members were his family.

Runaan and Tinker had Rayla, and Aaravos and Janai were like siblings in the way they ran everything. He and Corvus were like brothers. Lujanne was everyone’s weird aunt. They were his family, but then… everyone grows up at some point, right?

They grow up, and then they have to leave their family and branch out on their own.

What if Gren wanted  _ more _ ?

Sitting in the car, in the dark, clutching his phone, his heart hammered in his chest.

Could he?

Could he leave the circus for Soren?

Where would he stay? What would he do if he wasn’t performing?

It was a huge decision, but the feeling in his stomach told him that he shouldn’t dismiss the idea. Gren stumbled out of the car, locked it, and raced through the makeshift campsite to Corvus’ trailer.

‘Corvus!’ he yelled, slamming his fist on the door.

His partner answered with a yawn, his braids loose, shirtless, his worn flannel pajamas hanging low on his hips. ‘What?’ he asked with a grumpy scowl.

‘I need your help,’ Gren pleaded, pushing his way into the trailer.

‘It’s late, and some of us actually _ perform _ in this circus,’ his partner mumbled bitterly, stepping aside anyway.

‘Yeah, well… that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.’

Corvus fell back onto his bed and shoved his face deep into his pillow. ‘About...leaving?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe? I don’t even know how I’d make it work, you know? What can I do apart from… circus stuff?’ Gren said, rubbing his hand on his chin and up the length of his jaw, a nervous habit. 

‘That sounds like you  _ have _ made up your mind, and you  _ are  _ leaving.’

Gren sat cross-legged on the end of the bed. ‘Would you be mad?’

Corvus levelled him with a steady look. ‘I would be ...sad, I guess. To see you go. I wouldn’t have a partner.’

‘You’d still have Runaan.’

‘He’s not as good as you.’

Gren grabbed one of the spare pillows and hugged it tight to his chest. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

Corvus rolled over with a groan and sat up so that he was looking at Gren. ‘Why don’t you want to stay here?’

Gren hesitated, and Corvus smacked him lightly on the side of the head.

‘You’re interrupting my sleep so that we can talk openly and honestly, so bloody well talk.’

‘I want to see where things go with Soren,’ the redhead said with a shaky breath. ‘Which sounds really dumb, but you know what I’m like… and I really,  _ really  _ like him.’

Corvus’ shoulders deflated slightly. ‘You fall really hard,’ he said, putting a hand on Gren’s knee. ‘And really fast. Did you already talk to Soren about this?’

‘No, I had an epiphany in the car park,’ Gren mumbled, burying his face in the pillow.

‘Oh, you’re such a fucking dork.’

‘I know,’ he groaned, the sound muffled.

‘Okay look.’ Corvus dragged the pillow from Gren’s hands so that he couldn’t hide his very red face. ‘Break it down.’

Gren nodded. ‘Break it down, okay, we can do that.’

‘Good. Do you like Soren?’

‘Yes.’

‘How  _ much  _ would you say you like Soren?’ Corvus probed, and Gren’s ears turned red.

‘Uhh. A lot.’

Corvus gave him the same deadpan, not-accepting-that-bullshit-answer look.

Gren rolled forward until his head landed on Corvus’ leg. ‘Oh god, fine, I’m in love with Soren.’

‘No shit,’ Corvus said with a roll of his eyes. ‘Don’t get caught up on that, I think you’ve known for a while.’

‘Shut up,’ Gren grumbled.

‘Right, so you’re in love with Soren. How are you feeling about… like… us? The Cirque?’

Gren rolled onto his back, with his head in Corvus’ lap. ‘Well that’s a stupid question,’ he said with a frown. ‘You’re my family, I love you guys.’

‘But you don’t want to stay, is there something wrong?’

Gren sat up so fast his head nearly collided with Corvus’ forehead. ‘No? Do you really think that?’

Corvus looked like he’d much rather be sleeping than dealing with a very stressed out Gren, but the redhead knew that Corvus would drop anything to help him.

‘I mean, you’ve been really off game since we got here, I just thought maybe you were sick of performing.’

‘I  _ love  _ performing,’ Gren said, his eyebrows creasing in confusion. ‘I don’t want to quit, I just don’t think I can  _ leave  _ him.’

‘So are you wanting to stay because Soren  _ needs  _ you, or because you want to stay here and be with him?’

Gren’s only response was grumble of swears. ‘I don’t know,’ he confessed. ‘I don’t even know if I really want to stay I just…’

‘Needed some advice?’

‘Needed some advice,’ Gren agreed.

Corvus patted his friend on the head, then swung his legs off the little bed. ‘Go to bed,’ he said, gesturing to the door. ‘Sleep on it. Focus on practice and performance tomorrow.’

Gren dragged himself from the bed, patted Corvus on the cheek then stepped down the little trailer stairs. ‘Thanks Cor.’

‘Go to sleep. Don’t stay up texting Soren all night, we’re changing up our routine tomorrow,’ Corvus said with a weak smile.

‘We are?’ Gren asked with a yawn.

Corvus just winked at him and shut the door.

The redhead stumbled to his trailer and stripped his nice dinner clothes off, chucking them on the floor before stumbling to his bed.

He sent Soren a goodnight text then turned his phone face down on the table for the night. Despite the exhaustion crashing around him from the evening, his mind raced with possibilities. What would Soren think about him staying? Would it be too much? Were things moving too fast? Would Viren accept him as a more permanent fixture in Soren’s life?

His mind caught on that one snag; a  _ permanent  _ fixture in Soren’s life. Now that sounded…. Nice. 

He snuggled deep into his covers and inhaled the familiar scent of his pillow.

How many nights did he have left in his trailer?

Gren drifted off to sleep with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3
> 
> Leave a comment to let me know what you think; where do you think we'll go from here?  
> Don't forget to follow me on tumblr, twitter, insta, all that nonsense. Yell about Sorgren with me!!
> 
> Enjoy the rest of your day or night, wherever you may be xx  
> Stormy

**Author's Note:**

> Remember friendos, comments keep fic writers going! Tell us what you loved, how you felt, what you want to see or where you think the fic is going! Talk to us!
> 
> Remember, you can come yell with me on tumblr @aaravosed and you can listen to the podfic!  
> Link in beginning comments!


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